LIGHT BETWEEN THE THORNS

Gather thee a last bouquet,

there,

hidden among the brambles,

see the gentle, frost bit tendrils emerge,
seeking light between the thorns,

sharing a fragrant
blanket to soften
our troubled year,

pick them,
draw them near,
inhale their rich perfume,

exhale the dismay, disruption,
and death,
leaving so many alone, bereft,

no one escaped unscathed,
especially those unnamed souls
who were never claimed
from the city morgues,

too cruel, you say,
too cruel to speak of now,

but when is the time to speak
of all we’ve seen, all we’ve lost,

are we kinder than what we’ve shown,
more callous than what we’ve condoned,

what can we glean from a year
when both have been true,

yet there, in thy fragrant bouquet
we see that flowers find a way,

so will love,
so will hope,
so will we,

find our way,

as we cut back the brambles,
we discover a new year
seeking light between the thorns.

By Rita Bourland

The painting was done by a good friend’s 16 year old niece sometime last year. I saw it a few days ago and was drawn in by its powerful beauty and asked if I could use it to accompany an end of year poem. The girl’s parents and the young artist gave their permission but requested her name not be used on my blog or social media.

The sun rose today
with a flair,
chasing the morning dew
and threatening clouds
that dared to mar a perfect day,

some days feel that way,

so perfect,
the world seems to align
from one pole to the other,

across continents and oceans,
countries and cities,
across backyards and playgrounds,

from one heart to another, to another,

one might stop to ponder
why it feels so right,

then remember the power of the sun,

providing warmth,
and so much more,
for life on earth,

a life so precious,
we get the chance,
every day,
to rise and dream again,

a chance to spread the light
from one heart to another, to another.

Collage and Poem by Rita Bourland – rbourland53@gmail.com

Written after the election – 2020

All of these dogs live in my neighborhood and see each other regularly at Sunny 95 Park in Upper Arlington, Ohio. Maggie May is our dog. Ever since we got her in June 2019, she has introduced us to the most wonderful people and their pets. This is an homage to building beautiful friendships with a little help from our pets.

SHE PERSISTED

After watching others come and go,
she tried, quite young,
to open doors,

not wanting to forgo her chance,

she persisted,

by opening the kitchen cupboards
and forming a band
with pots and pans,

it got everyone’s attention,

so, she persisted,

through kindergarten,
grade school, high school,
college, parenthood,
law school,

she made good noise,

then, rejection, dejection,
doors firmly closed,
no women here, no Jews here,
no young mothers here,

all reasons to exclude,
back then,

yet, over time,
through renewed effort,
doors opened,

she stepped through one,
after another, after another,
until one set remained,

the doors to the Supreme Court,

they were heavy,
weighty with decisions
that had come before,

she bore the mantle of it all
with wisdom, honor and grace,
through cancer, through loss,
through political strife,

she persisted and insisted on doing her best,
for all of us,

and now her loss is hard to bear.

Associate Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg (1933-2020)

OUR KALEIDOSCOPE SHORES

I purchased a big box of crayons,

I hoped, in the neat, pointed rows
to discover the color of America,

I found Strawberry Jam, Wild Tangerine,
Screamin’ Green, Outrageous Orange,
loud, profound colors,
bold, ambitious blends,

they called to me
over subtler shades
like Robin’s Egg Blue, Mountain Meadow,
Sunset Orange, Carnation Pink,

hues with something to say,
yet holding less sway in our noisy world
where a slash of Laser Lemon
easily turns heads,

we’re a messy, noisy crowd in America,

we color outside the lines,
create our own designs,

we love with abandon,
hate with fervor,
embrace with passion,
march with purpose,

we like to clash,
complain, shout in ALL CAPS
while insisting our views,
our hues, are the best,

it’s a test every day
to find the true us,
the depth we need,
the hope we seek,

our great melting pot
under red, white and blue
will never be calm,
or a rainbow post-storm,

we’ve come far
on our kaleidoscope shores,
but not far enough,

we’ll walk on together
and continue to honor,
continue to ponder,
the colorful hues of our vexing,
perplexing, audacious,
beloved land.

Photo by Marti Garvey: https://momartiphotos.tumblr.com/

A RADIANCE OF CARDINALS

She told me
Cardinals appeared after his death,
like sentinels keeping watch
over her wounded heart,

they painted her yard
a vibrant red,
the color of her still beating heart
torn apart by loss,

sorrow heightens our senses
to what lives around the edges,
the things that vibrate with
mystical meaning,

we tune to that frequency
when death occurs,
when the world offers no
respite from pain,

our minds and hearts open
to the presence of angels,
to a radiance of cardinals,
to spiritual wonder,

it’s a rare window,
only open when the heart is ready
to see, feel and hear
the presence and power of the universe,

invite cardinals into that space
they will help heal your wounded heart.

Thank you so much, Marti Garvey, for letting me use this amazing photo!
Check out Marti’s other photos at: https://momartiphotos.tumblr.com/

WHEN A SCARY THING CAME TO TEDDY BEAR LAND

Once upon a time, a scary thing arrived in Teddy Bear Land. It was sneaky, it was invisible and it made teddy bears very sick. It sneaked around all day and all night without needing to rest. It seemed to grow stronger and more dangerous as time passed, but no one knew why.

Teddy bears gathered around their honey pots, at picnics, at houses and at their jobs to share their concerns. They were nervous and edgy, cranky and testy and mostly just tired and afraid.

Then a wise, older bear proposed they call the smartest bear in the land. He said, “She’s an expert on scary things and knows how they devise their devious plans.” They asked her to come the very next day.

She patiently listened to all their concerns then went off to ponder the facts. She studied some graphs and studied some charts; she collected some data and soon it was clear: more bears got sick when they gathered in groups. It seemed that the scary thing’s trickiest tricks worked better when bears got together.

So, the very next day the bears all stayed home, they sat on their couches, they picked up their phones, they talked to their friends, they read some good books like Goldilocks and Winnie the Pooh. They had honey on toast, honey in tea, they played checkers and watched a lot of TV.

And slowly, the bears stopped getting sick and the scary thing quit playing dastardly tricks. It simply grew tired of working so hard. It whined and complained, growled and exclaimed and slowly, with time, grew decidedly tame.

One day, the scary thing wasn’t around. There wasn’t a trace; it couldn’t be found. The bears all rejoiced, they danced in the streets, they hugged and they smiled, they sang and did flips.

The bears are prepared now; they have a good plan, in case the scary thing comes back again. They’re ready in every conceivable way to stay safe and healthy, to care for their kin, to love one another through thick and through thin.

THE END

THE MOST BELOVED OF ALL

The majestic tree
stood strong
by the river’s edge,
her roots moored
firmly to the earth,

her branches,
a canopy of shade
for the bench ’neath her feet,
a seat where folks laid
weighty burdens down,

it was there she opened her heart
to their secrets and sorrows,
their dreams for the morrow,

bending low,
she hushed the wind,
then listened with care
to the joys they shared,
the heartaches they bared,
while her branches encircled
and calmed,

all who came to the restful place
were blessed by her
friendship and grace,

she stood through it all,
bending with the wind
but never breaking,
not worried
how her own life might end,

always present within
the cycles of time,
the orbit of sun and moon,
the change from light to dark,

no other tree
would ever
stand so strong,
nor live so long,
nor share such love,

the forest cried
the day she died,
and so did all the souls
she left behind,

when morning came
the following day,
the sun burst forth,
spreading hope
to the shadows,
while a song filled the sky
with the sound of heaven’s joy,

this is the way the tree lived on,
and why she’ll remain
the most beloved of all,

forevermore.

Written in memory of Eleanor Walker – 2019

Owl Dreams

A barred owl flew
over your head,

I remembered the story,

I remembered
the awe in your voice
as you shared
the thrill,

the feel
of its wings
skimming close,

I shared my wish
to see one as well,

so you dreamed one
for me,

he perched on a branch
outside your window,

his penetrating gaze,
unflinching,
insistent
you acknowledge him,

you wanted to find me,
to tell me,
come quickly,
come witness this wonder,

yet it was only a dream
and my owl’s still unseen,

but the real gift
was being
in your dream,

where the space between
you and me
is as thin as the gap
between earth and sky,
between night and day,

maybe that’s the way
we survive this world,

I will dream for you,
you will dream for me,
and our dreaming
will illuminate
what we hope to see,

the places that will
finally set us free.

May blessings settle in your home
like peace at silent dawn,
resting in the shadows
and the rays of noonday sun,

floating on the whispered wind,
alive on fragrant breeze,
present in the robin’s song,
carried on his wings,

nestled in the teapot,
and there on buttered bread,
there upon the table,
there in folded hands,

there in every troubled heart
and all the gentle souls
who find their way inside this space,
your warm and welcome home.