Saturday, March 4, 2017

No Matter What


















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

The morphine made her mean. We turned her friends away,
sparing them painful memories. But, we remained, bedside.
In her dying days, we learned how to push love out through
tough skin.

Today, at her grave, I found myself thankful for this:

How I can love this world
no matter what.



© 2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Truth and Beauty" (a work in progress)

Feel free to share

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Water and Stone




















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

The Earth is showing you how it is done,
water and stone; what is hard is warn
away by the long flow of persistence.

Stay the course.

Know that tears have their purpose, and that
nothing is permanent. Have that long cry,
whether or not there is a shoulder made
available to you.

***

When I was a little girl, my best friend was
a brook. She taught me about the power of
subtle movements all heading in the
same direction.

I remember a bullfrog tadpole who had
figured this out too. I watched his tail
undulate. He created a tiny current.

***

In recent memory, I sat on a boulder next to a
mountain stream and the waters talked to me.
They said that voices are like water, they can
change things.

I started to speak more truths.

***

When it rains, we can say to ourselves:

“We are doing this. We are working together,
all of us, creating something that can become
something formidable.”

I’ve always had a special fondness for storms.
Have you ever made love during one?


© 2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From “Truth and Beauty”

To be published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share

Sunday, January 29, 2017

The Roosters




















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


“Wake up!”

“It is time to rise!”

***

One morning, I awoke from a dream in which
roosters were crowing, and there were
still roosters crowing. I didn’t have roosters
at the time. Well, I didn’t when I went to
sleep the night before. I caught them by
the stream, near the road, in the pouring
rain. My legs were cut by the mountain laurel
and bleeding. It felt like childhood.

I loved those roosters. They lived with me for
eight months before they decided to try
to kill each other. I put them in my shower
to wash all the blood off and then nursed
them back to health. I gave one to the lady
who works at the post office and kept
the other one – the orange one that got
along well with the dog. The fox ate that
one while I was away. It felt like having
something precious stolen – like adolescence.

I loved those roosters.

***

I’ve spent a lot of time over the years thinking
about waking up – how we have a delicate yet
powerful moment gifted to us in which we can
imagine our way into everything that is to follow.
Every day we get the chance to emerge from the
darkness and take a dream forward to an
anticipating sky.

Somewhere, in my adult life, I have found a
grand responsibility in this – in waking up.
.
I miss my roosters dearly, but I no longer need
their reminders.

***

“Wake up!”

“It is time to rise!”

That’s my voice you are hearing.



© 2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Truth and Beauty"
To be published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share

Friday, January 20, 2017

The Antidote
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

“The antidote can only be delivered
through an act of giving. Something
of value must be released to be
in service of something greater.”

“Oh,” I said. My heart suddenly
understood why it had needed
to grow so strong.

© 2017/Jamie K. Reaser

From “Truth and Beauty”
To be published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share

The Moon Said
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

"You must notice you are note alone," said 
the moon. I said that I noticed. Then the moon
said, "Good. Then, I'm not alone either,"

(c) 2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Truth and Beauty"
To be published by Talking Waters Press