Quill #122 - Mortal (June, 2011)

I watch myself dying, toe by toe.
I wiggle and wiggle.
Every day it takes longer
To get feeling back.

I watch myself dying, nerve by nerve.
The tingles and pains,
Each week, move further.
At least I feel them.

I watch myself dying, wheeze by wheeze.
Pain by pain, step by step,
Minute by minute,
Chill by chill, bite by bite.

But, in the moments between,
When a squirrel peeks at me from
Behind a bole in its tree,
Or a child smiles at me shyly,

Friends laugh together,
The sun shines through clouds,
In these moments the world
Grants me joy, reprieve,

Happiness and the gifts
All humans are given.
Life is terminal.
For now, I'm still here.

Quill #116 - True Love

Over the course of thirty years together, Peregrin and I have come across occasional female friends who, for whatever reason, don't care as much for me and think he's the bee's knees. Inevitably, we have a conversation initiated by them about how Peregrin and I met. This topic can come up in innocent discussions, too. But, with certain women, the underlying message is that Peregrin is too good for me, why is he with me, why does he stay with me, and other questions that might explain how this wonderful man became my husband and then actually stayed with me for a lifetime. These women see Peregrin as he is now, after ten, twenty or thirty years of hard work together; they see what a gem he is now, and they want one just like him - or him.

To these women, I say, "Tough!" Nobody gets to thirty without effort. And nobody stays together for thirty years without reason. We met when we were eighteen years old, married at nineteen. Do you honestly think either of us was much more than potential at that point? We got here together, supporting each other through thick and thin, crying together in hard times and celebrating the bad with the good. And, trust me, there were a lot of difficulties in that space of time that required both of us to grow and cope and learn to laugh. You can't take that away. You can't find it in someone else's life. You can't fake that kind of bond, borrow it, or steal it. There are reasons why he and I trust each other and it has a lot to do with what we've survived as a couple. I wasn't the me you know now, back then, and neither was he. If you want him, you'll have to wait till I'm gone and then work YOUR butt off to be worthy of him.

In each other's care, we discovered science fiction and our own fantasies, raised two and a half children, played games together, survived death and depression, kissed on stage, moved twenty times, suffered through illnesses and despair, learned each other's foibles, traveled alone to faraway lands and returned to inviting arms. We've been poor together and wealthy with love. To quote The Princess Bride: "You can't harm me. [Peregrin] and I are joined by the bonds of true love. And you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds. And you cannot break that, not with a thousand swords."

Quill #50 - Pumpkin (2010)

She has a new love in her life,
And I'm happy for her.
I want her to experience
All the joys,
All the love,
All the freedom and laughter,
Everything wonderful in huge quantities,
More than I did,
More than any before her.
It is not jealousy that binds my heart
And causes my eyes to leak.
It is knowing how little time
I have left to spend with her.

-----

Song nears its ending,
Lilting flowers to my ears,
I hug my daughter.

Bird flies free with wind,
Speeding over bright meadows.
My feet wear stone shoes.

Pumpkin seed flowers
Into handsome orange fruit.
Stem will soon be cut.

-----

To be a healer is a sacred gift.
There are rules and vows,
Years of studious work,
Even then, many guesses.
To save a life, cure ills,
These are precious talents.
No real skill is required to
Become a mother but
You can't save a life
That was never given.

Quill #24 - Senior Farewell (1979)

It's coming.

The time we looked forward to when, way back in our youth, people asked us amusing questions like, "What will you be when you grow up?"

It's coming.

The thing we couldn't wait for when we got angry at our parents and wanted to be older so we wouldn't have to put up with them anymore.

It's coming.

We're not children anymore. We can't hide behind our mother's skirts or hold our father's hand when we're scared of the dark.

It won't be long before we're doing that for our children.

It's coming.

On graduation night, when we stand up there so proud... and so alone, we'll cry. Because the panic will finally hit us and we'll finally realize there's no more waiting around.

Life is here.

Quill #22 - A Marvell-ous Response (1995)

To those who would rush me before my time,
Speaking blithely of joys of the flesh,
You claim you hear chariots approaching behind
As though Death, at your shoulder, stands ready to thresh.

Truth is, if you value my heart and my mind,
And not merely desire my form,
Is it not worth it to you to be gen'rous and kind?
Or am I but a jewel to adorn?

There are joys in the hunt and the chase, in all life!
One can choose to forego parts of that.
But regret follows those who dispense with a rite.
Courtship ought to be more than a doff of the hat.

The game is to separate the chaff from the wheat,
Would you hasten me out of my dole?
If you have not the patience to wait for my meat,
How much time will you give for my soul?

Quill #21 - Buster Daddy (2010)

"Smash his face!" I thought,
Rooting for Marlene in this play.
She swings a crowbar at him a few times,
But the physical is not her realm.
He gets a sore toe and feelings of loss.
She gains some bruises,
A new life, and love,
Harmonic resonances,
A re-gifted son,
A better deal all around than even Roosevelt's.
This generation, one of the first to understand
Why help was needed,
Still has too many voices
Sounding out the praises of abusive corporate partners,
Feeling trapped and unequal to the demands,
Unable or unwilling to leave,
Like battered spouses everywhere,
Downtrodden,
Lacking even a cast iron skillet for weaponry,
Afraid,
And betrayed,
By their own loyalty and lack of options.

Quill #20 - Artist Descending Life (2001-2002)

It's a good thing artists are brilliant

when we can't afford to pay the electric bills.
Understanding balance is an important skill
when we have to do the books every month.
Only a starving artist can make a "Still Life of Fruit"
substitute for the real thing.
Next time let's have "Still Life of Steak Dinner."
Temperamental natures are a blessing
when the bed isn't big enough for two.
Dear Soulmate, in future lives,
let's take turns being practical.
You go first.
Baths are much cheaper when you can draw one.
When they told us we would suffer for our art,
did you think they meant winters, too?
At least we can use warm colors.
We do our best impressionistic work
when we can't focus on our real goals.
I wish somebody rich would tell us what they like
so we could paint it.
It's a good thing artist's don't need their ears to paint.
Then again, they do make an interesting brush stroke.
We do our best work with nudes
when we can't afford to do laundry.
Would you like one cubist or two with your drink?
When the baby was born,
we understood Dadaism for the first time.
Our best life insurance policy is death.
That's when the paintings sell.