Tag Archives: death

The Tree that Holds up the Moon

(Poem 77 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/a1SThn

The tree that holds up the moon
had to be reinforced last month.
A branch broke and the light of night
nearly came tumbling down to earth.
We wept and prayed, wished we
had thought of something sooner.
Then the women gathered their
tools and began the tedious work
of stitching the bark strong where
the wound remained from the
gaping hole the bough left when
she fell away and broke our hearts.  

@Home Studio – 77th poem of the year

Runner ups for the tree moon photos to accompany my poem:

Cheetah and Dahlia

(Poem 74 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/FJuDC4

The epic battle between
cheetah and dahlia
lasted more than two moons.
No one knew who fate would
favor, though all took sides.
Spider and owl both fought
valiantly on the side of dahlia.
Scorpion and crow stood with
cheetah, as they do to this day.
Allegiances were forged,
lifelong friendships shattered;
the forest was never the same.
Some say dahlia attacked first,
jealous that cheetah was not
faithful, others say cheetah
was the original aggressor,
retaliation for a lost cub.
Whoever initiated matters not,
for the havoc and destruction
was total, the bloodshed dire.
Had serpent and beetle not
teamed up, all would have
been lost in the bloody mire.
As cheetah lay dying from
serpent’s bite, dahlia fell,
devastated by beetle’s hunger.
And to this day, there is
animosity among the animals,
where once there was union.
Such are the ways of love
and war; there are no victors.  

@Home Studio – 74th poem of the year

Runner ups for the cheetah flower photos to accompany my poem:

Westside

(Poem 59 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Amblin Entertainment, TSG Entertainment https://images.app.goo.gl/eA9j3QVXtgfPyrhx9

Seething anger
must be aimed
at an enemy,
or else.
If there is no
target, they risk
ricochet; with no
one else to hurt,
they have to feel
all the pain.

@Home Studio – 59th poem of the year (after watching the 2021 version of Westside Story with Debbie, Yulia, and Celinda)

Spielberg, Steven. Westside Story. Amblin Entertainment, TSG Entertainment, Dec. 10, 2021.

More Westside Story images:

Grief is Hard

(Poem 58 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“This is hard,” you say,
and point to her portrait,
no more words required.
Tears begin to flow;
you don’t want to cry
and say so.

I tell you no one knows
what you are feeling.
None of us have had a
best friend for 70 years
and had to feel the pain
of losing her.

Then I escape to my
room to weep into
my husband’s arms,
crying even harder
because she can’t
hold you.

@Home Studio – 58th poem of the year

I Lotioned Your Feet

(Poem 48 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

My Mema passed away this morning. I had the privilege of spending 50 years in her presence. I will miss her something fierce. She has a husband she was married to for over 70 years, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren, not to mention every other possible connection to people far and wide.

Mema and Grandad

I lotioned your feet, then hands
with white jasmine-scented
Bath & Body Works Miriam gave me
and tucked you in the way you like,
brushed your hair and read you your texts,
then some Bible verses of comfort—
Isaiah 40, the first one that surfaced.

The steady sounds of the ICU create
a strangely soothing white noise as a
backdrop to your labored breaths.
Lydia is here again to hold your hand
just one more time; one of many
one more times over the last few days
because each time could be the last.

The you I know is no longer here,
but the shell remains and deserves
gentle petting and reassurance.
Goodness knows how many times
you had to ‘there, there’ me in the last
50 years, buoying my spirits and righting
my sails with your steady faith and calm.

Boaz sat vigil until I arrived, and your
children and husband will take over after
I leave — we are all branches of a grand
candelabra you have lit with exuberance,
spreading across states and time, thankful to
have been influenced by the life you lived
and the love which from your cup overflowed.

@ICU Room 1 St. David’s Round Rock Hospital & Home Studio – 48th poem of the year

Lesson 5 The Way of the Wizard

(Poem 26 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Relativity allows us to bend our belief in linear time.” Deepak Chopra’s The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/al5DZw

Let’s grow younger each day
until we disappear at birth
defying immutable laws,
escaping such silly fairy tales
as death, for we know better.

Growing older is a worn-out
habit that traps us in time;
beings of light are not subject
to the man-made principles
of minutes and seconds.

False logic dooms us to repeat
the spell of mortality where we
insist on quantifying eternity.
We must unwrap our layers of
contrary beliefs to find immortality.

There at our core beneath
our deepest fears, lies the
deathless part of ourselves,
The part of us that “must be
unborn if it is never to die.”

@Home Studio – 26th poem of the year

Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.41-46

Runner ups for the AI birth, death, timeless photos to accompany my poem:

Goodbye, my dear friend


-For Mary by Rebekah J. Marshall 1/20/19

Goodbye, my dear friend.

“The earth has arranged her skirts

and taken you back so tenderly.”

I know you have “vanished

into something better-”

“the dark hug of time.”

What is it like “after the last day?”

“Did you float into the sky?”

I know “you never intended

to be in this world,”

yet you still got on with

“building the universe.”

“Everything dies at last and too soon,’

so I will bathe in the

“moon’s bone-white eye”

while whispering

“prayers made of grass”

until “all the locks click open.”

No matter how “humble the effort,”

I will “move my grains on a hillside”

one by one if need be

for “neither power nor powerlessness

will have me entirely”

and “I am willing to be dazzled.”

Yes, “my spirit carries within it the thorn,”

but I “keep on trudging.”

And every so often

“green leaves emerge from the tips of my fingers.”

A “fox on his feet of silk” found

“a bride married to amazement.”

I “have changed my life,”

“announced my place in the family of things,”

and “invented the dance with the wind,” for

“death is a little way away from everywhere.”

This is the very reason that

“every morning the world is created.”

Thank you for living

“your one wild and precious life.”

I will “remember your beloved name”

until I am “washed out of my bones”

because “death isn’t darkness after all,

but so much light wrapping itself around us.”