And then it came
News like drought rains
At first dropping then
Dripping and finally running
This news whilst welcome
Yielded floods and torrents
The power to change
Dry creek beds into
Rivers and better lives
Returning me to harvest
After three long years
Of cloud gathering hope
Yesterday it finally rained
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
Pond (for Jadon)
The tap tap tap
Of life always requires
That the old guard
Make room for new
Yes those who are
Older possess reflection we
Know where the ponds
Are but it will
Always be the young
Who find the swing
In order to dive
Headlong into this life
And make their splash
Whatsoever
There is no tomorrow
There may have been
Yesterday we do remember
But are we certain
We all cherry pick
Memories often choosing low
Hanging fruit not because
It’s easier to harvest
But because it fortifies
How we feel about
Things what if life
Grew its bounty only
On the upper branches
How many would climb
I think that most
Would prefer to starve
Or become plants animals
And rocks for they
Have no memories whatsoever
Disappear
I think that more
Than almost anything else
That I want someone
To love me enough
That I can disappear
Like midnight snowflakes that
Fly higher than the
Streetlights vanishing into the
Calm darkness of affection
Writing
When I write I imagine being in bed with a lover on a lazy summer afternoon filled with glee, giddiness and calm. A place of comfort and peace, of discovery and adventure, of passion and of pleasure.
