May 29th

I paired this poem with this picture because 17 years ago was so very different in so many ways. One of those ways was the blossoming of the trees on our front lawn. This year they have just opened up in the past few days. In 2002 they had gone by. I remember this because a sun roof was left open in one of our cars the day Barry died and the next morning the back seat was full of flower petals from this very tree.

May 29th

I’ve had such a
flurry of feelings
today.
That’s not unusual
since today is the last day of
‘weird week’,
which always concludes on this date.
Two birthdays, two death days
come and gone
again,
all while school is winding up
before the slide
 into summer.
But, today seemed sort of magnified
with a range of echoing emotions
that swayed and swirled within.
It wasn’t bad or good,
right or wrong.
I just felt what was there
without a pull to fully understand
why or how or if.
It’s a Wednesday again,
only the second time since 2002.
That likely had something to do
with it, too.
Body memories
are so strong
and wise.
May 29th,
you seem to be ending with
feelings of gratitude and
accomplishment,
combined with a healthy dose of
 sorrow and fatigue.
Good night,
and thank you.
I’ll feel you again
next year.

Sarah Carlson

May 29, 2019

Still Waters

Still Waters

Lay back,
absorb all that has come
from your exploration.
Relax as you let still waters
support you, caress you,
 gently transport you
to pristine places.
Your revelations of the goodness,
pureness,
beauty that is you
can and will expand even more.
New challenges,
some that may be furtherings
of what you thought had resolved,
will present themselves.
That’s life as a caring, feeling,
healing human.
It might be confusing

 as your newfound sense of health
converges with brokenness.
But you’ve dealt
with cross currents before,
though maybe not quite as strong.
You’re fine.
So, lay back and sink in,
safe in the knowledge that
still waters
do run deep.
And it’s from stillness
that your wonderful wild child
allows her being
to fully immerse in
universal Love
as she beams
and thrives.

Sarah Carlson

May 21, 2019

Rise Up

One World Trade Center, New York City - May 4, 2019

I do not pretend to know what it was like for the people of New York who experienced 9/11. I only know it from my perspective as a mother and second grade teacher in Maine.
Recently I visited New York City for the first time since celebrating my seventh birthday at the World's Fair in 1964. This time my friends and I were there to participate in the 5 Boro Bike Tour and were able to do some sightseeing on Saturday. One place I knew I wanted to visit was the 9/11 Memorial. And, I'm so glad we did.
That experience and this picture were on my mind as I pedaled on Sunday with 32,000 other hearty souls in the pouring rain through the streets of Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens, Brookyn, and across the Verrazzano Bridge to Staten Island.
This poem is an attempt to capture the feelings and sensations of both being at the memorial and participating in the bike tour.

Rise Up

Brokenness

 and the accompanying trauma

are part of living 

on this planet. 

While some tragedies are shared,

each human has their unique story.

Reasons known or not,

effects tangible or difficult to discern,

our narratives are complex

and contain heartache.

Inner reflection,

the exploration of

 deep, achy places

 requires courage, 

determination,

and honesty.

Within the rubble

is the tenacity of the human spirit,

a collective wish for peace,

the goodness and purity of recovery.

We can and do 

rise up

again and again and again.

At times this is hugely visible,

like a towering structure

that seems to stretch 

to the heavens above. 

Other times it's as subtle

as the shared joy of thousands

of like-minded people

pedaling in the same direction 

on a rainy May day

in a city

where resilience, 

rebuilding,

and renewal

are conspicuous, visceral, and true.

Sarah Carlson

May 8, 2019