A Soft Reminder

A Soft Reminder

Christmas has come and gone,
and another year is waning.
As always, I think of you
with a gentle longing
that I have befriended
over the years.
The warmth and gentleness
of our love is here, too.
There is much on my mind,
but I think this year
I’m going to sit with the beauty
of this soft reminder
that filled my being
as I crossed a small brook
on a winter hike
 with friends today.
There, right there -
a perfect heart
waiting to be seen.
I saw it, I feel you,
I love you, too.

© Sarah Carlson
December 31, 2023

Stalled... and in Motion

 Stalled… and in Motion 

My mind wanders
as I walk along a snowy trail
 that’s new to me.
I realize I’m searching
to find words to describe
what’s going on within.
I don’t ever remember feeling
quite this way before -
sort of disoriented, but in a good way.
Drifty,  though my vessel is secure.
Stalled, and clearly in motion.
An image of water-skiing
drops gently into my mind.
Those lovely moments of suspension
just after a wide turn as you wait
for the pull of the boat
to catch up to you.
You know the energy is there,
so you delight in the pause.
“Yeah, that’s it… kind of,” I think.
Later, we stop to examine
 a glacial erratic that borders the trail.
I gaze upward -
 rocky edges
meet a soft blue sky
as wispy clouds dash by.
Further aloft I spy an eagle.
He turns into the wind,
flaps his huge wings to adjust
and then hangs motionless.
He does this several more times
and then…
he does a 180,
zooms away with the wind,
wings open wide for the ride.
I take a deep breath,
grateful for the serendipity
of nature speak
once again.

© Sarah Carlson
December 14 - 31, 2023

Do You Hear It, Mama?

Photo by Emma Carlson

 Do You Hear it, Mama?

A family outing on Christmas Day,
three generations strong.
We walk to Madison Boulder,
play in the babbling brook
that flows nearby.
As we head back
 three-year old Otto
 grabs his mother’s hand,
then stops and asks,
“Do you hear that water flowing, Mama?”
Thinking we had left the brook behind,
we’re surprised
at what appears to be
a mini waterfall deep in the trees.
We weave through soggy woods
to be greeted by water sparkling
 in the mid-day sun
as it aerates during its plunge,
 bubbles when it rejoins the brook
in a raucous rush.
Icy edge waters dangle and glisten
in silent suspension,
ice platelets hang
on tiny branches
with beautiful patterns
 all their own.
Rich unplanned moments, these,
 provided by
 an adventurous boy
who feels free to ask,
and loving adults
who know to listen.

© Sarah Carlson
December 30, 2023

Ever Expanding Light

 Ever Expanding Light

Here in Maine
we had a lovely winter storm
that overlaid our world
for many days.
A true winter wonderland,
uplifting and beautiful.
Just over two weeks later,
a storm of a very different nature
hit hard.
Torrential rains, crazed winds,
raging rivers,
flooding and destruction.
All this with winter not even here,
until today.
Bare trees sway in a chilly breeze,
still waters freeze,
humans connect
and work to recover.
An icy patch near my home
catches my eye
as I walk and wonder.
I stand for a bit in awe once again
at what nature holds, if only we look.
Bent branches,
air pockets,
angles, openings,
waters both clear and rippled.
So much there
that wouldn’t be
without Light.
Perhaps that’s why
this day contains
 warmth through the chill,
insight from reflections,
promise in the dark.
It’s a day that,
through it all,  
we can recognize
the hope of ever expanding Light.

© Sarah Carlson
December 21, 2023

Oh, These Trees

 

Oh, These Trees

I walk by the river,
as I have so often over the years.
Though the water surely flows,
all is quiet under a soft gray sky.
Snowflakes of an approaching storm
begin to gently fall.
As often happens along this trail,
clarity seeps its way in
without my asking.
I gaze across the river
and smile at a familiar,
though ever-changing, sight.
Oh, these trees
and how they reflect,
help me do the very same.
Memories of shared and solo
snowshoe, ski, and paddling adventures.
Sunsets, moon shadows,
ice formations, geese visitors,
eagles on the wing.
I slide in deeper and recognize
there are some facets,
though universal,
that are unique to me,
my inner landscape.
 The love, the missing, the loneliness.
The courage, the pain, the despair.
The hope, the comfort, the healing.
I embody the truth of it all.
My truth.
And then…a knowing
 that if and when I branch out anew,
I will carry with me all that has come through
in the soothing company
 of this river and these trees.

Sarah Carlson
December 4, 2023

In the Barn

 In the Barn

It’s been leaning for a while,
has needed to come down.
I haven’t really even been out there much
since he died.
Lately, though, it’s been calling to me,
wanting attention as I work toward
leaving this home we all shared together.
So, I gather my courage and take a look.
Emotions stir as I see
a jumble of old bikes and skis,
a favorite hat now housing a bird’s nest,
the remains of the yellow Dancer he so loved -
 our kayak beginnings.
Here and there I spot
random Carlson family memorabilia,
brought home when he and his twin brother
helped Nana move after Grandpa died.
I peek into the upstairs loft
once a sort of neighborhood hangout
complete with a crazy zipline
built by you-know-who,
now a resting place for who-knows-what.
 Back downstairs …way in the back…
 my gaze rests upon the old Glenwood.
Together we moved that woodstove
from a cabin in the woods
to our first house,
 then another,
and eventually here.
Though it has not held a fire in years,
 the warmth of our bond
kindles deep within
as tender tears surface.
All the way back I go,
to falling in love in the ’59 Rambler
listening to Neil Diamond’s Hot August Night
on the 8-track player.
There, I distinctly feel
a welcome blend
of my growth and healing
and his unwavering
love and support.
I had to go there,
a place I had been avoiding,
to once again feel things anew.
I am so very grateful
for what comes to light… in the barn.

Sarah Carlson
November 17, 2023

The Fog of Mourning

 The Fog of Mourning
with love to my home state of Maine

We know what we know.
People were slain.
People were injured.
People experienced terror.
We are hurting.
We wait and wonder.

I had a sudden rush
 of tangled emotions this morning
after I read about the tender beings
who were killed in Lewiston.
I feel such empathy for them,
for their families,
for those who shared in their lives.
And then it went deeper as the words,
“there one minute, gone the next”
meandered through my mind.
Though it has been years,
and my husband died peacefully,
I can relate to a normal day
that ends with sudden,
catastrophic loss.
At first I felt guilty.
What right do I have to cry
 about my own loss
in the midst of this horrible crisis?
I knew to step outside,
take a breath,
be with the trees
and the morning mist.
Slowly it dawned
that we are together
in the fog of mourning
right now,
each in our own way.
How it dissipates
will ebb and flow and vary.
May we all
find spaces and places
to honor our feelings,
experience support,
share love and compassion
so the density of this fog
can lighten
as time goes by.

Sarah Carlson
October 27, 2023

Wide Open Love

Wide Open Love

I love this photo
of our tenderhearted grandson
at the same beach
where I danced in wild waves
during a recent storm.
I came across it just after
a sweet, distant memory of his Opa
found its way into my mind, my heart.

I am driving by the fairgrounds
and, boom… it comes with a rush…
1979
We are newlyweds,
 in our brand new truck,
on our way
to our new home in Rangeley.
New, new, new…
We decide to stop at the Farmington Fair
to meet up with a friend.
44 years later,
I feel as if I’m in the truck,
his arm around my shoulder,
as he searches for a place to park.
Sensations of love, togetherness,
excitement, promise
of that day, those moments,
spread throughout my being.
 They gently pair with the truth
of so many lonely times since he died
that still come every so often,
especially in this town.
I cry peaceful tears for me, for him, for us.
I feel real and right and valid.

I look again at this photo,
 ponder the many aspects
 of newness in my life now.
I marvel at Otto’s easy presence,
 spunky innocence,
wide open love.
I feel so incredibly grateful
to be his Oma,
have the opportunity to
share both lively adventures
 and quiet connection with him
as I carry his Opa
 softly in my heart.

Sarah Carlson
October 2, 2023

In the Awe of it All

Turns out swimming in the wind can be both humbling and empowering. Still processing this amazing experience in/at Silver Lake, New Hampshire.

In the Awe of it All

After a rollicking swim
I am content
to watch and wait
with wonder.
Evening sun sinks behind
an undulating horizon
as wind-whipped waves
continue to break
 upon saturated sand.
Red, orange, yellow hues
shimmer and gleam
 in the clouds,
water, shoreline.
As day gives way to night
and storm clouds
slowly slip away,
my breath and being
settle anew.
I am but one human
alone on a beach.
In those moments
I feel happy, full,
safe
to be immersed
in the awe of it all.

Sarah Carlson
October 1, 2023

Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave

Silver Lake, New Hampshire - September 16, 2023

Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave
 

We’re on the fringe of a tropical storm
so I head to the beach
to experience the wind.
Dazzled by the intricate
rhythm of the whitecaps,
I decide that a swim is in order.
I am alone
so I know to take care,
that I have the ability
to do that for me.
I go in just far enough
to be fully afloat.
It takes some time
to adjust to the varied angles
and steepness of the waves.
As I do I feel my
    body enliven,
         energy flow,
                vitality soar.
Eventually it becomes
     a comfortably
                wild dance
                of sky,
                                mountains,
                water,
    and me.
I simply know
                                 when to exert
               or relax
      or adjust.
Wave
upon wave
upon wave.
Rise, settle, scan.
Surge, giggle, smile.
Breathe, notice, allow.
Later, I sit on the beach
as the sun sets
and the winds freshen even more.
My essence pleasantly abuzz,
    I feel
                    calm,
                                    present,
                         grateful,
                safe,
         and free.

    Sarah Carlson
September 23, 2023

Misty Freedom

 Misty Freedom

In moments least expected,
all can be clear and calm.
 Light turns on the darkness.
You are able to close a door
and walk away
with sureness and grace.
Left behind…
a sort of grim energy that was
 flittery and jittery,
lurky and murky,
old and cold.
This opens the way
to acknowledge an
embedded anxiety
that you learned to carry,
push through,
work with,
often turn to good.
Though you mostly understand
 its roots,
you wonder how it could possibly
have had such a grip
of doubt and fear and threat.
Why did you tolerate it?
What could you have done differently?
Should you be angry at those
largely responsible?
Then you begin to notice times
when that tangled anxiety
is absent.
In that absence
you feel presence, stillness, flow.
You settle into your foundation,
sigh into a misty freedom
from the gloom that obscured,
let go of working so hard
 to understand,
and tenderly forgive.

Sarah Carlson
September 14, 2023

It's You, It's YOU!!

 It’s You, It’s YOU!!

I call his name just as I arrive.
He turns, brightens,
runs up the hill
from our campsite.
Every so often he throws in
 a little dance,
repeats over and over,
“Oma! It’s you, it’s you!!”
The energy of his joy
envelops me as I pick him up
for a quick hug,
my heart all aflutter.
Later,
as Mama and Dada
are off to pick up food
and supplies,
we share some tent time
and then decide to build a fire,
just because.
Together we fan the flames,
stoke it a bit,
simply sit and watch.
The wind picks up
as he climbs onto my lap,
clearly in need of some cuddle time.
I wrap him in his adventure blanket
(a.k.a Blanky)
and quietly sing our song.
He slides gently into sleep
just as rain begins to fall.
The soothing sounds of distant whitewater
 and raindrops on the tarp,
the sweetness of his trust and love,
the soft, dual movement
of the eddy as it flows
past our little beach
 produce a stirring of my soul
that is deep and primal and needed.
The shifting currents of healing,
though powerful and true,
can at times be disorienting.
In these moments
along the Penobscot,
and at intervals ever since,
I separate from disquiet,
anchor more securely
to the ‘you’ that he sees,
grateful that it’s me.

Sarah Carlson
August 23, 2023

Now, As I Am

 Now, As I Am 

Winds of change
billow and swirl yet again.
I know to welcome them,
let stormy waters disperse,
allow for newness.
But, I’m uneasy
so I head out on my trusty bicycle
to find my rhythm
 and hope to settle a bit.
Lines of past poems
float through my mind
as I pedal,
especially those that explore
 grief, loneliness, self-doubt.
I have a rekindled recognition
 of all that has come,
        flowed through,
                evolved.
As the miles pass,
I feel a deepening
into my own self,
a gentle expansion
into places I know well,
along with those
 that are pristine,
yet somehow familiar.
I smile with delight at
the comfort of my confines.
Slowly a belief begins to dawn
that, in time, I will find a place,
and maybe some new people,
to fit me now, as I am.
I look both wide and deep
and must remember
to honor the storms,
the Light that reveals,
the beauty
 of that
which reflects.

Sarah Carlson
August 7-14, 2023

I don't want to live here anymore

 I don’t want to live here anymore.

I had to write those words
 and sit with them for a bit.
This house holds so much
after 38 years of living, loving,
learning, grieving.
Having come on slowly over time,
 there’s more of a rush to it now.
As it becomes more and more clear,
tears burst forth at random.
Rainbow tears, these.
They scour and cleanse,
bring forth memories
of  many joys,
 some deep sorrows, too.
I’m a bit afraid
of whether or not I can
find a new place
where I feel like I belong.
But, I somehow
survived the sudden shock
of becoming a widow
and all that entails.
So, here I am
writing these words,
letting tears flow,
hoping I can access the courage
to take the plunge.
I need newness
and some community -
space to build on a foundation
of health and wholeness
that I’ve worked so very hard
to unearth.
I will take the bubble of love
that I felt with Barry,
carry it with me
as I flow into the unknown.
I just don’t want to live here anymore.

Sarah Carlson
July 30, 2023

Just Run With It

Photo by Emma Carlson

 Just Run With It

So much growth and change
all the year through,
with shared adventures
on board.
Once again we stand
hand in hand
as briny surf and soft sand
churn and whirl about our feet.
Last year’s fear
is but a memory
and he lets go,
frolics gleefully
with strength and sureness,
quite literally
goes with the flow.
Just two and a half
and he listens,
        learns,
            trusts,
        reminds
that there are times
when one can
drop in,
feel the freedom
to just run with it,
welcome each moment
with wild and gentle abandon.

Sarah Carlson
July 27, 2023

Alone on a Beach

 Alone on a Beach

The tide shifts,
 waters reach ever higher,
sand swirls and settles anew.
My cadence slows
in the softness of the fog
and soothing ocean rhythms.
I pause to look both ways.
Not another human being in sight,
though I know others are walking, too.
For just a few minutes
I am
totally alone
 on this lovely beach.
I turn to the ocean,
watch waves crest and roll,
feel a sense of rebalancing.
How amazing it is that
        the wide horizon
                            and warm sunshine
                                    are out there,
            though not always in view.
Even in times when we feel
                    cut off
                or closed in
            or alone
                there is always
light
        and hope
                    and potential,
        if only we continue
to remember
the gentle goodness
of trusting in Love.

       Sarah Carlson
July 11, 2023

A Friend in Me

Evening View from Campsite 44 - Cobscook Bay State Park, ME

 

This piece came over the past few days. It was easy and difficult to write, has unfolded as the day Barry and I were married approached. 

I smile with memories of our garden wedding 44 years ago, the years we shared together as a family, and the joy I access in my life now. I hold gently the residual ache of missing him these 21 years. 

A Friend in Me

Thoughtful eyes
that absorb, fathom, reflect.
Benevolent arms
that anchor, carry, embrace.
Kindred souls
that bond, fortify, balance.
This,
an attempt to capture
what we had,
what I miss.
This,
my way to ponder,
learn, heal, grow.
I know the Love we shared endures.
I see it in and around
waters, landscape, sky.
I sense it within my confines
and ever wider.
I honor it as tides shift
and I relax in my distinctive flow.
It’s the absence of day-to-day friendship
that dampens me now.
The tender touch
of hands held
as we took an evening stroll.
The shared joy
 of watching our amazing
children grow.
The quiet listening
 when things were hard
or confusing or hurtful.
These past few years
have contained much
that challenged.
It would have been easier,
so much less lonely,
had you been by my side.
I feel left
 with a lack of camaraderie,
baffled as to why
those who were close
have faded away.
I think it healthy now
to let the wondering wane,
take comfort in
the open-hearted,
beautiful friend
you found in me.

Sarah Carlson
June 27-29, 2023

Reach and Stretch and Strive

Reach and Stretch and Strive

You climb much higher
than I think you can go.
I stand close,
as grandmothers do,
though I know to let you
reach and stretch and strive.
You give your all
in everything you do,
while feeling free
to ask for a hand
or a lift
or a cuddle
when you have a need.
Like when mosquitos swarm
on a biking trail,
just after the fun
of chasing dragonflies
across a wooden bridge.
“Carry me, Oma!”
you say with
sweet conviction.
And, somehow,
I summon strength
I didn’t know I had
until right there,
right then.
I hang your bike on mine,
carry you first on one side,
then the other
and onward we go.
Being with you
is so incredibly inspirational
as we reach and stretch and strive
together.

    Sarah Carlson (Oma)
June 25, 2023

Robust Intricacy

 Robust Intricacy

I look to my garden,
  notice the deep purple
of the first bloom
in a patch of Irises
that hold complex memories
for me.
I pause and breathe,
roll back my shoulders,
stretch into the day.
In good time,
I bend to look
closely
at the robust intricacy
of this hearty blossom,
even with some parts of it
yet to unfurl.
My attention
                    widens
                            a bit
 and I see it surrounded
 by others
not yet open.
I feel warm
and comfortable
within,
paired with a loving
sense of faith.
I smile
with an awareness
that right here,
right now,
that’s really
                  all
                            I need.

Sarah Carlson
June 9, 2023

Tangible Reminders

Photo by Emma Carlson

 Tangible Reminders

Today our grandson
had his tiny hand on his heart
as the flag went by
in a Memorial Day parade.
We all did -
Mama, Oma, Grandma
and Otto.
Grandma told stories
about how Grandpa Al
had such pride and honor
for our flag,
and how Dada does, too.
I shared memories
of  Barry (now Opa),
showing respect
with his hand on his heart
so many times
over the years.
A day of
remembering
and missing
for both sides
of a little boy’s family.
His interest in
 stories and memories,
his wit and adventurous nature,
tangible reminders
that both grandfathers
truly do live on
in him.

Sarah Carlson
Memorial Day
May 29, 2023

The Intangible

 The Intangible

I’ve been cleaning out
this home,
deciding what
to keep in my now.
Many things are easy to let go
and I happily pass them on.
The champagne glasses
from our wedding
puzzle me at first.
I don’t seem to want them,
but why?
After a toast
with family and friends,
you surreptitiously kept
these very glasses
that I now contemplate.
I take them outside,
sit on the deck,
allow wondering
to ebb and flow.
Awakening trees
reflect and refract
in their glass
as they nestle and sparkle
in the springtime sun.
A symphony of birdsong
settles my being
as understanding slowly unfurls.
It’s the intangible
 that so often provides
deep comfort.
Just when I least expect it
I see, feel, hear what it is
that these glasses actually hold.
I am reminded that
you are everywhere,
including right here -
wherever it is
that I am.

Sarah Carlson
May 29, 2023

Apple Blossoms and Snowflakes

 Apple Blossoms and Snowflakes

There are times in life
when it’s hard to make sense
of what is right in front of you.
For me, this happens when
what I thought I knew
is not entirely true
and things just feel askew.
Often this intrigues me
and I look within it all
for hope and newness.
Other times it makes
my body ache and
my soul weep
as my mind
strives to understand.
Eventually, though,
I can settle
into sweet support
and deeper awareness of ME.
I think of my two-year-old grandson,
who said upon waking early one morning
during a winter sleepover,
“What’s going on in here?
It’s time to turn the lights on!”
Such good advice…
And, so I do.
Turn the lights on, that is.
Allow illumination to find
what I need,
and let the rest be
as best I am able.
Like a spring evening
when apple blossoms
and snowflakes
share the same space
in one’s front yard,
or looking to the horizon
when fields are greening
and some mountains are still white.
Things that seem discordant
can actually peacefully
and beautifully coexist.
Thanks, Otto,
for once again
pointing out that
which is true.

Sarah Carlson
May 19, 2023

Be Two, Be True

Photo by Emma Carlson

Be Two, Be True

We sit by a lake,
feel the wind in our hair,
watch whitecaps
dance in the distance.
We listen to birdsong,
enjoy Grandma’s flowers,
see pictures in the clouds
with Mama -
as she and I once did
with my father.
We listen to a song
that Dada sang
opening oatmeal,
have a belly laugh
all together.
We explore and wonder,
ask and answer,
feel big feels,
whatever they may be.
We cuddle on the couch
with ‘our’ book
finding all the
pictures and poems
about our earliest
moments together.
He slowly leans back,
gently holds my face,
nestles his to mine.
I breathe deeply,
immerse in these pure
moments of shared love.
Once again I marvel
at the simple elegance
of his essence,
and the wonder
of being two,
being so
                    fully
                                true.

Sarah Carlson (Oma)
May 15, 2023

The Deep Simplicity of Joy

 The Deep Simplicity of Joy

How fortunate I am
to be in a time and place
where I can open my eyes
to a smiley toddler
as a new day begins.
What shall we do?
Bike to the bottom
of the driveway and back?
Go to the library
for Story Time?
Head to the beach?
Oh, wait… it’s only April
and it’s raining.
Hmmm, that doesn’t matter…
Let’s go - we can do it all!
And so we do.
By beach time
it’s a gentle rain,
and only a little bit cold,
so we settle in to play by the shore.
I am mesmerized by
how he takes such care
in filling his bucket with sand
and dumping it into
the small pond we built.
Over and over and over again.
He fills, pours,
watches, and smiles.
I, too -
fill, pour, watch, and smile
at the deep simplicity
of the joy
this delightful boy
takes in
and gives out
each and every day.

Sarah Carlson
April 21, 2023

Truth in the Blues

 Truth in the Blues

I walk on a windswept beach,
enjoy the teasing warmth
of an early April sun.
Having spent much time
in the mountains of late,
I am captivated by
a scene that appears, at first
to be acutely linear
with very distinct layers.
I stand
    and breathe
        and notice.
Sand swirls around my feet
and shifts on the shoreline
with the outgoing tide.
The waters near me
        riffle gently,
            flicker with
                 intermingling hues.
 My eye is drawn
                                                  to the wide horizon.
Such a deep blue
where the sea
meets the lightness
of the sky.
These contrasting tones
enliven tides
within the truth of me,
especially the richness
in the bounds of my blues.
How amazing it has been
to explore
my fathoms,
discover a trove
of  comfort, love,
 wholeness, sanctity
within
the lively textures
of grief.

Sarah Carlson
April 12, 2023

A Long Time Coming

 A Long Time Coming

A photo of 18-year-old me
and conversations with a friend
from my alpine racing days,
stir both stale pain and opportunity
for healing deep within.
March 1976.
I’m in a tuck,
strong and free,
on the flats of a downhill race.
I see her now,
connect with her then,
know the truth
of her teenage experiences.
She couldn’t put words to her sorrow
in those days.
It wasn’t safe.
She was full of imposed fear…
 and fearless.
Her pain, mine,
comes up and out
with a strength and vulnerability
that is righteous.
In speaking the truth,
being listened to with
kindness and compassion,
I claim my own experiences,
find a novel freedom
that may take some getting used to.
I honor that young ski racer in me
with an absence of wrongness,
and it’s wonderful.
I look out the window
as a gentle rain falls,
releases left over ice
from last night’s storm,
and realize that apparently
I just need to let go,
 cry tears that have been
such a long time coming.

Sarah Carlson
April 6, 2023

Tender Travel

 Tender Travel

Skiing free on a wilderness lake,
eyes to the sky,
attune to the energy of
the environs,
a gentle awareness
continues to kindle within.
We humans usually think of travel
as going from one place to another -
perhaps by plane or train,
car or bus,
pedal or foot.
We like to expand our horizons
by going someplace new
and different.
Here I am, though,
in a familiar valley
feeling a loving warmth
spread throughout my being.
I stop for a moment and breathe,
honor the courage I carry along
as I wander within
 to heal.
One tiny human in the expanse,
more and more I understand that
I truly am here and there
and everywhere.
We all are.
The horizon includes us,
each and every one,
from our very core
to as far as we can see
and beyond.
For so long I felt like an outsider.
How soothing it is to feel
the freedom of being
both outside and in
at the very same time.
Tender travel that tells all,
once we learn to listen.

Sarah Carlson
March 24, 2023

Deep Love

 Deep Love

Childhood Love,
so open and pure,
kept me trying so very hard
to help.
Nanny Love,
has returned to me,
reminds me,
stays with me
just as I need it to be.
Quagmire Love,
reached through the murk,
allowed so much light
in and around and through,
 both sustains me
 and has made healing a challenge.
Mommy and Daddy Love.
In tandem we treasured the
very essence of their beings
as they grew.
How grateful I am to be able
to do so still.
Oma Love.
 the richness of it
brings it all back around
with gentle goodness
as his essence both
 expands and enfolds.
As I stop
to breathe, notice,
bathe in the simple splendor
of an evening cloud
that tickles the treetops,
illuminates the beauty of
both light and dark,
I quietly honor
the presence of
Deep Love
within and without.

Sarah Carlson
February 20, 2023

Quagmire Love

 Quagmire Love

An explorer of the deep,
part of what drew us together
all those years ago.
He was an observer,
a thinker,
a lover of life
and family.
The shock of his death,
for me,
shifted slowly
to an opportunity
to investigate organic
aspects of my roots.
Hard work
without a doubt.
We all have some amount
of murkiness within.
When we choose to explore
we can discover
grace in the gloaming,
space in the stillness,
majesty in the murk.
We can pause along
a winter river,
notice the beauty of
tannins in the water,
patterns in the ice,
freedom of unfrozen falls.
We can choose to relax
into our sweet selves,
honor how we have
made our way,
feel the strength
of our unique flow,
We can rest on our laurels,
feel the Love,
with ease.

Sarah Carlson
February 3, 2023

Beyond

 Beyond

I walk along a winter river,
listen to its soothing flow.
Soul loosens,
Spirit visits,
I attune to what I know.
I sense an awareness
on the periphery
of my thoughts
as memories meander
through my lovely mind.
I think of my Nanny,
 her love so free and pure,
her tiny apartment a haven
from all that made me unsure.
I remember the distress of her death
which shifts gently to
a connection
of grandmother to grandmother.
I could feel the warmth of
of love transcending linear time,
 our light nestled together once again.
Her love for me,
like my love
for my children, my grandson,
carries no need, no room
for remorse or encumbrance.
It’s a consistent flow
that wends through everything
from whitewater wildness
to slushy, slow moving murk.
I’m left with a sort of circuitous,
elemental sensation,
clear of interference,
that I try to find words to fit.
I rest easy, let go,
as I realize
that at least some of it
is, in truth,
beyond.

Sarah Carlson
January 12, 2023