Inside Out

 Inside Out

I breathe, feel, reach
into my depths.
I both listen
and let my attention wander
to wherever it needs to go.
No code to crack,
no need for vigilance,
no place for shame,
no reason to fear.
My body settles,
cells open,
inner embers gently glow.
I feel surrounded and suffused
with soft hues of yellow,
lavender,
azure,
and snowy white.
Tranquil, soothing, inner delight.
There’s a bit of a tangle,
brambles and briars that,
though they stir,
no longer have roots.
I know they will go
when the time is right
for me.
With each deep breath now,
I feel a tender massage
of places that need nurture
and Love within.
Though I miss him still,
I recognize

my light in here, 

his light out there
really are all one
and the same.

Inside out,

outside in -
what a wonderful glow
to share.

Sarah Carlson
March 29, 2024

Welcome, Joyful Transformation

 Welcome, Joyful Transformation

Such a lovely flow within
the depths of me.
I believe this now,
have known it in many ways
all along.
The delicate softening
of places that need attention
has set free so many truths.
Some I already knew,
but didn’t quite trust.
Others slowly unfreeze,
gently join the flow
 with a splendor of their own.
And, sometimes there’s a breakthrough
that is profoundly liberating.
Like a realization of how
shame gets in the way.
For me,
it had an awkward grip
 from way, way back,
though I have done quite well
despite its hold.
Much of it came from
a cranky energy
that was persistent and nebulous.
I think it likely has
ancestral roots.
Good people gone awry
by not attending to their sorrows
and so tightness and unease
gets passed along.
This little one
absorbed so much as her fault
so eventually some critical
 feelings and needs
became bound up and tucked away.
Now she knows,
because I know,
there is no place for
the imposition of shame
in the wholeness of Health.
I hold her,
as I hold my grandson
 and held my children,
with all the care, compassion,
and love
she so richly deserves.
What a welcome, joyful
transformation within.

Sarah Carlson
March 24, 2024

Outside In

Outside In

I’ve always loved movement
in the outdoors,
a healthy aspect of my youth
to be sure.
How well I remember the joy
of running free as a child.
Kids from all over our neighborhood
 gathered to play.
Hide and Seek, Kick the Can,
kickball games right in the middle
of our quiet street.
Going inside was often hard.
 I didn’t quite fit,
couldn’t fully breathe,
was stymied by a harsh code
that, though I tried,
I never did crack.
When I met Barry,
our bond formed as we
biked, hiked, swam, rode horses.
I could breathe, smile, giggle.
The freedom to be me was present,
there was no code to crack.
How fortunate that he was there
and I was, too.
How courageous I was to follow my heart
into his patient arms.
How deeply sad I am that he died so young,
that our family has had to deal with such sorrow.
How grateful I am that I am healing.
 How connected I feel
as I hear birdsong along a bike trail.
I stop, breathe deep, look to the sky, and grin.
Outside in,
inside out,
all
One
 and the same.

Sarah Carlson
March 15, 2024

Oh, Nanny

Photo taken by my father in June of 1965

 Oh, Nanny

I remember how happy Geof and I were
when you pulled up
in your blue Studebaker,
your head barely showing
above the steering wheel.
How we loved going to A&W,
or Rummels,
or for a drive around Waterville
so you could tell us stories of old.
And, how proud I was when I was able
to drive you,
just as Geof had,
when you could drive no longer.
I remember how safe I felt with you.
First in your apartment
that looked out toward
the Waterville Public Library,
then later
on the seventh floor of Elm Towers,
a haven of comfort and love.
Saltines and lemonade,
homemade TV dinners,
the absolute best whoopie pies ever.
Playing cribbage,
learning to sew,
 feeling the bond of
 of a wide-eyed child
and a wise and wonderful grandparent
blossom along with me.
And now,
as Oma to dear Otto,
that comfort and love
rekindles within me
in such a way
as to more deeply know
 my self. 

Sarah Carlson
March 4-12, 2024

I'm Home

 I’m Home

Last summer I had a rush of emotion that came forth as,
“I don’t want to live here anymore.”
I thought I meant this house that we shared as a family
and where I have lived alone for quite some time.
Now I understand that there was a deeper meaning, too

As I settle and soften into
this place that is mine -
I’m at home
baking muffins in my kitchen,
reading in my favorite chair,
typing this poem by my wood stove.
I’m at home
enjoying grandson
cuddles, conversations, and escapades
wherever we may be.
I’m at home
as I see my children and their spouses
thrive and love and share adventures.
I’m at home
as I access healing in whatever way I need.
Though I really don’t know
where I should live just yet,
I do know that
I’m at home
by the brook that meanders through my woods,
on the mountain I so love beneath my feet,
and in the freezy, breezy wilds that surround.
Wherever I am,
I’m here,
I’m home.
I’ll figure out the rest as I go.

Sarah Carlson
March 8, 2024