The Storm

I am the eye

I am the seed

Riding the current

Tossed

Held

Led 

By wind & rain

Mother Earth 

Opens her arms

Her womb

I am rooted

In love
I am the storm

Pattra Burnetto Monroe

11:11 

November 11, 2016

In No Time

Oh, I wish I could share
The wisdom of my heart
The knowing I have finally found
But in no time it can vanish

Leaving me bereft.

My thoughts are loosening
Loosing their importance and
I am loosing mind
And matter 

which once was so important 

no longer is

Oh, both time and words
Have meaning still
And it is still the thought
That counts

It's just that to my surprise 

My priorities have shifted 

once again
Here in the land of
No Time
Where my thoughts
Silently drift away

Here where I cannot remember 
Where only Now 
Resides

There is a freedom

In forgetting 

A warmth in letting go

Funny, how at one time
Time and words
And meanings
Once ruled my life

Now, time and words
And meaning
Drift quietly
Through my mind

Silent, heartfelt words
Felt
Then flee
What need of them to stay

What need of me to say them

I have tried to leave nothing 

left unsaid 

My "I love yous" pour from me 

like water from a fountain

in the center of the village courtyard 

where we gather to greet 

and meet and leave again

I have grown here

I have become old here 

I have laughed and wept and loved here

And my heart is filled with Joy when I watch the children play

Once I thought I would become

a shaman or a wrinkled crone 

full of wit & wisdom

 

Instead I find 

I am but a babe 

In a new woods
Where time has flown and my stories seem to have a life of their own

Here inside this ever changing world, I wait, mostly patiently, 

In my new home, the present 

And although I still travel 

back and forth in time

I have made a discovery here 

Here on the page and in this present moment and found 

some measure of contentment in my minutes And my hours 

And my days

And some humor or a bit of irony 

I smile and laugh often

I talk to myself and inanimate objects, an occasional apology for bumping into something 

I did not see

"Time waits for no one" 

Sometimes I have no idea 

what that means

But

What I do know is I can cry and laugh at the same time and even allow myself to weep 

and writing is a way to pray and that divine timing does exist and today I will be okay


Pattra Burnetto Monroe
June 2016 (revised March 2023)

In a Shell

There is an ocean
In my left ear
It swishes round
Like the heartbeat
In an ultrasound

I won't write the
Sound here
It is enough that
It is my constant
Companion

You do not want
It stuck in your
head like a song
You cannot forget
But wish you could

It is enough
That sometimes
It drives me crazy
And occasionally
Like now
I can love it

Pattra Burnetto Monroe April 2016

Just A Moment Away

Like me, She was out on her own

Like me, She was glad to have "caught" the streetcar

Like me, She was an older, an elder on the outside

A wise little innocent child crone on the inside

Like me, She was wounded and smiling and open

Like me, She was missing some teeth

Like me, near-death had visited

Leaving a vague but impressive package

And then departed

Like me, Her heart had been broken

So deeply

so profoundly

so vividly

so purposefully

Like me, Her heart had cracked and cracked and cracked

Like me, She thought it could not crack any further

Without killing her

Only to discover

When she awoke

She was not dead

Only done with the small things
that could deaden
And kill her
like being afraid.

This poem is dedicated to Renae, the beautiful lady on the streetcar. 

by Pattra Burnetto Monroe March 2016 This image came from the internet yesterday. I do not know its origin, but the timing was perfect.

I met this elf of a woman on the streetcar the other day, she was huffing and puffing as she plopped into her seat, so relieved to have made it into and onto the streetcar. Our eyes locked as she sat in the seat reserved for the elderly and disabled. We laughed and smiled. We started talking across the aisle from each other. She moved over to sit next to me and we continued to talk and she apologized for her bad breath (which it wasn't) and missing teeth and her lop-sided smile, I nodded in empathy because I'd walked in those toothless-grin shoes and told her that it was perfectly okay with me as, “my teeth are now wooden”. We laughed some more and then she told me her story. 

In five city blocks it is possible to fall totally in love with a stranger. I've done it many times. Here is Renae's story: she lost half her teeth due to an illness. She began, "I had a fever of 109 degrees and survived, while I was in the hospital, in a coma, I had a long conversation with my grandmother. I was surprised she was there, but then, I was even more surprised that my son wasn't, because he had died when he was twenty years old and I expected he would be the one to come see me. The nurses and the doctors all heard me talking away and told me this when I woke up, but I remember the conversation clearly. She told me to "go back!"

Here's what happened prior to the coma: Renae was bitten by a bug last summer. The bug bite became infected. It was summertime in the city. "Hot time, Summer in the city" and she passed out on the sidewalk. Her blood began to boil before help came. She was taken to the hospital by an ambulance and remained in a coma for several days or longer. I'm not sure of the time thing as we literally only talked together for about five minutes or about five to ten city blocks on a streetcar and in appearance we looked very different which is part of the point is that our similarities far outweighed our differences.

Our differences of skin color (me white, she black), or our hair color (hers still black, mine grey or pewter as my Meg sweetly refers to it), or weight (she petite, me obese), plus she also looked so spry... I can barely walk these days. Our differences didn't stop us from talking or smiling or striking up a conversation. Our ability to see pass them allowed us to have this precious moment and experience together.  I hope I never forget her... but then, I forget a lot lately, too. We also had that in common. xooooxp

 

Not-so-Humble Pie

I don't try to be difficult
It just sort of comes
Naturally to me

©pbm 2016

Rhythm and Blues and a few Country Western Haikus: Return to the Garden

Rhythm and Blues and a few Country Western Haikus: Return to the Garden

DEFINITION

I AM NOT

A PERFORMER

A WRITER

A POET

A DANCER

A SINGER

A MUSICIAN

OR AN ARTIST

BUT I DO THESE THINGS

ACT

WRITE

MUSE

DANCE

SING

PLAY

AND CREATE

BECAUSE I AM

A WOMAN

A CHILD

A MOTHER

A LOVER

A FRIEND

ALIVE 

AND BREATHING

AND BECAUSE I CANNOT

NOT 

WRITE

LAUGH

SING

CRY

GROW

AND CHANGE

pbm (1997)

Untitled CWH # 1014

Dreams die sometimes

even when we want them

to remain alive.

~PBM  2014