Writes With Pencils

fiction, memoir, essays and poetry

Tag: Water

Perspective After Suicide

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I awake with relief
to a cool morning, take pleasure in
watering the garden and pulling weeds
from the rockery
before the early sun has risen
to its full strength
and feel grateful that the cat
will once again eat from my hand
after a day of worrying listlessness,
she too having found relief
in the cooler night,
recovered from unseasonable weather.

I feel the fullness of my life
and tell myself,
as if counseling another
to remember this
remember this, girl,
remember this moment the next time
you seek simple respite from the heat
only to feel like sinking into the lake
and being done with it all.

Remember this
when you can’t feel the joyous breath
of the water
from the swell of wakes
of passing boats.

Remember this
when the morning is clear
but the solidity of the mountains
offers you no comfort
as they stand watch.

Remember this
when all you want is for the pain
of your loss of him to end
as tears turn to steam in your goggles
blurring everything
in a self-contained eco system
of grief turned despair.

Remember this
when the only thing that draws you
back to the beach,
rather than below the surface
to join the milfoil and turtles,
is a sense of responsibility
to everyone but yourself
and your not wanting to cause
this singular suffering
to anyone else.

Sea Snail and Gull

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Plucked from a pool
at low tide
by a ravenous seagull,
for a moment I could see
beyond the marina
and the sheltered cove
as it clutched the edge of my shell
and flew as high
as the douglas fir tops
lining the shore.

It sailed over the concrete dock
opened its beak
and let me fall
to the unforgiving hardness below
no embracing water
to sink into.

Damaged and stunned
I lay baking
in the noon day sun
as it swooped down
and again took me in its beak
to climb as high
as the naked mastheads
and again let me fall
to the land’s floating extension
no home for sea snails.

On impact the cracks split open
exposing my belly
where the gull picked and tore
inefficient in its gluttony
scattering shards of my once home
leaving just enough of me
to crawl to the edge
and surrender to the sea.

Public Pool Private Sanctuary

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It does not feel
the rush of gravity
from rivulet to lake
or the tug of the moon.
It does not swell
from heavy rains
or feel the wind
churn it into waves.
No weeds or grasses
grow from its bottom.
It is no habitat for fish.
Sanitized with chlorine
washed in the sterility
of fluorescence
and hemmed in
by measured concrete,
it is a rectangular mass
of lifeless wetness.
But for me it is lifesaving
as it gives me buoyancy
from the heaviness
that is this griefy
earth-bound life.
Its caress
as I stroke through it
comforts me.
It fills my ears
muffling the sounds
of all that doesn’t matter
until all I can hear
is my heartbeat
and exhalation.

Perspective

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Glasses hold water
or words on a page
and mountain views for miles.
Half full, half empty,
or appropriate for their contents-
which do you believe
as you drink
from your spectacles?

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