Runner

Driving by in my car
Waiting at a traffic light
Sitting in slow moving traffic
I have watched them

Those whose movements are a thing of beauty
Long, even strides
Body upright
Limbs loose
I have watched and smiled, even nodded in admiration

Others seem clumsy
Limbs uncoordinated
As if seconds away from tripping over their own feet
Chests heaving
I have watched and smiled, amused

But both groups are runners
And I, sitting in my car
Am a spectator
Not a runner

E. Wright © September, 2015
 

Ocean waters. Human Emotions

WP_20150819_18_22_14_Pro (2)

WP_20150819_19_17_28_Pro (2)

Ocean waters are sometimes calm, soothing,
Sauntering, strolling, meandering to the shore
Inviting reflection and “just being” moments

But with a change in the wind, or some other external element
They hurl against the shore, tantamount to an assault
Raging and sending those nearby scampering for safe places

Much like our emotions
Which can change in response to circumstances
But which, unlike the ocean, we can learn to control
And limit their damaging effects on others

© E. Adams Wright, August 2015

Meeting at the wall

We met at the end of a wall
I, sister to more than a few and word lover
On the final leg of my morning walk

He, a pure black Labrador
Out for his morning constitutional?
Or was he just exploring the world?

We met at the end of a wall
Me on the sidewalk
He on the lawn

Seemed like we both paused
Briefly taking each other’s measure
Before he shyly dipped his head and retreated

Only to return to our meeting place after I had moved on
And stand there regally observing the world

© E. Wright, July 2015
 

Appropriate Response

I saw you as I hit my stride
A blush of pink in an otherwise blue sky

I smiled with anticipation
Knowing that you were a precursor
To the beauty which awaited me
When I rounded the corner
Feet and arms pumping
And I was not disappointed

There ablaze in gold and glory
Was the sunrise
I laughed out loud with joy, wonder, and gratitude
How else could I respond?

E. Wright © July 2015
 

Remove

 WP_20150629_008

Sometimes ever the most cursory of glances
reveal
this truth –
Something needs to change.

And change involves letting go.
Cleaning house.
Proverbially
and literally.

The multipart question then is
Who?
What?
How?
When?

Change will not occur until I answer.
Begin the process
and complete it.
Obstacles and tears, notwithstanding.

© E. Wright 2015

The prompt for this piece was a “Remove” sign painted on a sidewalk which is being repaired on the main street closest to my home.

 

Grief

Can intimacy with grief create a sensitivity to the grief of others?

Much like previously broken bones have been known to ache with changes in the weather?

Aches due to changes in the barometric pressure which occurs with coming storms, as some propose?

Do our inner places previously broken by grief experience changes in some emotional barometric pressure in the face of someone else’s grief storms?

Because we do not “get over loss,” but rather adjust to loss, make space for loss, integrate it into our lives, are changed by loss?

And witnessing someone else’s true grief, remember being there?

In a manner that those whose lives have not been intimately etched by grief cannot?

I wonder.

© E. Wright 2015