During a depressing night where my headaches and dizzy spells drained any hope I had, I reached for my phone and discovered an email with a voice recording.
There were delightful pauses in this one sided conversation, but everything about the message, her soft voice, her pauses, her sweetness revitalized me.
Sadly, this little poem does not do justice. I dedicate this to that voice to die for. Thank you. 🌹
a voice came to me
loneliness thundered when a soft voice came to me landing on my five o’clock shadow like a lightning bug determined to tickle my cheek while her little healing light outshined my torment stifling the echoes inside my heart as her deafening silence spoke to me her voice shined like the stars illuminating my night resembling a constellation of fireflies absorbing the darkness in my universe of misery
“There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness.” – Sharon L Adler, inspirational author of 300 Questions To Ask Your Parents Before It’s Too Late.
Life has an amazing way of touching us. During these months of illness and recovery, my precious friend Rachel of In Mind and Out, has reached out to me in my loneliest moments, lifting my spirits. We often joke about being “broken.” This wonderful poet and caring woman fails to see the beauty of her imperfections as her brokenness helped repair mine. Please, get to know Rachel, one of the Inspiring Women of WordPress.
beautifully broken you
fragments of a mirror reflecting multiple moons in the night making the parts more beautiful than the whole fractured sunsets of healing warmth and light in need of an ointment of poetry to cure a jagged soul shatterd moonlight and splintered sunsets create a stunning view reminding me of my darling kintsugi beautifully broken you
Poetically translated to “golden joinery,” Kintsugi, or Kintsukuroi, is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery. Rather than rejoin ceramic pieces with a camouflaged adhesive, the Kintsugi technique employs a special tree sap lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.
This occurred nine days ago, before my current state of dizziness began.
Knowing a pandemic was sweeping across the world, I expected to find the tourist beach desolate. I wasn’t disappointed.
Before long, I discovered an open beach bar with one sole patron. A beautiful young woman with green eyes that silently spoke to me.
We were both affected by the magic of our eye contact.
My “hola” was followed by her “bonjour.”
My heart sank. UGH! For three years Cynthia from the debate class did my French homework in high school.
Oh, karma had a sadistic way of coming back to bite you right in the croissants. Where was Cynthia now?
Lucie spoke little English, but her accent…..oh it was heavenly. The Beach Boy has a weakness for sexy accents (and hosiery)! Hey, Superman has his kryponite, I have mine.
She had small dainty feet, well manicured, toe nails painted a soft shade of coral, with a sexy sea shell ankle bracelet. I was melting.
We communicated by pointing, through sign language, Google tranlsate on my phone, and glowing smiles. I was in full James Bond mode.
Magic had returned to my life.
I prepared for the right moment to impress her with the only French I remembered, “Le chat est sur la table.” (“The cat is on the table”). Damn my luck, it was a cat-less beach.
Pinkies entwined, we walked the beach. Played frisbee. I explored her soft hands.
Venturing into the water, the rough waves knocked us around, giving her a reason to hold my arms and chest. It allowed me to cling to her bare waist. We shared tender little kisses on the cheek and lips.
Then, came one long lasting kiss, which I felt in my soul. We were alone in the world and the world was ours.
Taking my hand, she led me back to her blanket. Pulling out her cell phone, she swiped through dozens of photos, showing me her man and their wedding pics.
Lucie was married. Apparently, he was in some business meeting.
Looking into my eyes, she pouted before giving me one last kiss. Watching her walk out of my life, my broken heart filled with hope.
Why shouldn’t it?
While a deadly pandemic forced a world to shut its doors in fear, I opened my heart and found love in the time of coronavirus.
the sun has fallen the moon refuses to rise loneliness sits beside me wearing a pink carnation mourning the death of my pride fear shaves in my mirror he only has one eye thus, he fails to see the shooting stars in the window no wait, they are the headlights of cars passing by so, I can’t make a wish but if I could….. I’d wish to die in your arms just to hear you whisper goodbye
During the first three weeks of my vacation, I was feeling well, getting stronger everyday. My heart procedure was set for Tuesday, April 14th.
Then, last Monday hit me like a storm. The hours of feeling dizzy, the sensation of my brain throbbing inside my skull, the additional blurred vision, and naseau had all returned.
For five days last week I dealt with this setback.
My blood pressure which during the holidays was reaching for the sky, now reached new lows. My nurse Elena described some of my readings as dangerously low.
On an island isolated from the coronavirus fears infecting the rest of the world, panic broke out after the President’s press conference. Business quickly shut down. Parts of the island are under curfew. A military presence can be felt.
With my sudden change in health, we called Jetblue to return to the United States, but the airports have been locked down. I found myself trapped.
Via speaker phone, my doctor suggested I change the dosage of one of my pills. I started taking a half pill (yesterday). This morning I am feeling a little better. The dizziness almost totally went away. There are still occasional spells.
On Friday to confront my super low blood pressure, Elena drove me into town to sit down and drink a cappuccino. After four months of no coffee it was heavenly.
Airports are scheduled to reopen Saturday, April 4th, the same day of my return flight.
Blogging? I will take this day to day.
Tomorrow, Monday, MAY BE my last post for a few months. I hope everyone drops by to read about something that happened to me last Saturday before my dizzy spells returned.
During a recent conversation, my friend Gabriela asked me to write a poem titled “blushing moon.” Please visit the winner of the Author of the Year (2019) At Spillwords NYC. You will find her inspiring poetry at Short Prose.
Now, here is my response to her prompt.
eyes moist with nostalgia i mourn the unspoken words that occupy so much space between me and you it leads me to ask does a shooting star ever yearn for the places he has never been the way I long for you perhaps, if our lips wandered the lines of your palm it will lead them to our destiny a place for us beneath the blushing moon