April brings so, so, so much for which to be grateful - the colorful blossoms, every new bird to welcome, glorious clouds, sunshine, and love everywhere. I just can’t wait to jump out of bed each morning! This month I wrote you poems about a profoundly moving family yoga class led by my sister Sam, a brush with thoughtlessness, a difficult day, my boyfriend the painter, a tough conversation over a cup of soup, woes of aging, a songfest of sisterhood, my delight and gratitude for a journal gift reminiscent of “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” I wrapped things up with some insightful reflections my friend Tim shared. And, finally, a poem about a lovely gift my niece made.

I know I sent you a Slender Stalk special edition a short time ago filled with poems from our family Haiku Contest, but I still wanted to send you a new batch of my poems too. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. I heard a new expression this week which is a better version of an old saw: “Smell the roses before they’re on your coffin.” There’s new ones blooming everyday, so get sniffing! I am sending you my love!- Mary

In the warm glow of candlelight a family gathers drawn together by a sister’s spirit radiant in her grace her loving presence weaves through the shadows offering us solace and surrender

our bodies unfurl upon our mats
our souls intertwined in breath
postures flowing into whispers of motion
as tranquil music caresses the air
and aromas of sandalwood and lavender
create a sacred sanctuary of reverence

we become vessels of her devotion
as the melody of her voice,
becomes a benediction
unraveling time
and the illusion of separation
our hearts united
as we melt into divine grace

as we recline
in savasana's embrace
she moves among us
anointing our foreheads
a blessing of fragrant oils

we are one family
one breath
one love

if there is a heaven
I hope it feels like this

Why would anyone
wait until you’re dead
to forget you
when they can
forget you now

"It’s been a hard day”
isn’t that what we say
to excuse it all
to minimize the pain
to pretend tomorrow
will be better
even though we know
it will be worse

there’s only one 
kind of person
who has to endure
careless punches
the one who won’t fight

it’s been a hard day

When you paint
I watch a miracle unfold
the canvas
the pigments
a stray hair of your brush
all become holy things
imbued with your spirit

each day as I walk
the gallery that is our home
I see you
and everything
I know you to be

you hang in every frame
your essence in every stroke
I see your soul
I see love

It’s not just the andouille goodness
but the goodness in her heart
it overflows into mine

I feel her anguish
her courage
her steadfast soul

she likes it hot
feeling the burn roll
from tongue
to throat

I feel her broken heart
the red anger rising
she likes it hotter
feeling the burn roll
from tongue
to throat
to torso
to toes

she holds crusty bread
to her burning lips
as tears well in her eyes


I feel the weight of tragedy
scorching her soul
it overflows into mine

she says she’s not crying

she insists
it’s the gumbo

I pretend to believe her

What you offer 
is worthless to me
stop talking and
try not to make noise

what you think are gifts
are just annoying
my overflowing trash can
can’t take any more of you

what you are
is useless to me
get out of the way
go sit over there

I’d rather say this nicely
but then you’d argue
and try to explain
I really don’t want that

Why are you still here?

Beneath the desert’s night sky
a circle forms around the bonfire’s dancing flames 
sisters, nieces, cousins, daughters, and granddaughters,
bound by blood and love
our voices rise like incense
melodies echoing the songs of our foremothers

through the millennia
like us this night
women have gathered
in the heart of darkness
finding comfort and strength
in each other

as we sing
the lyrics shift
and take on new meaning
“They are One Person”
“They are Too Alone”
“They are Free Together”
"They are For Each Other”

our song rises like a prayer
into the desert’s vast expanse
we feel our deep connection
to the lineage of women
who came before
and to those who will follow

we are for each other

I thought
as we went through life
we’d get a thicker skin

but the truth is
skin thins as it ages
revealing the truth
inside us


skin thins
so people can see at last
all the things we tried to hide
so they would love us


skin thins
so it cuts easier
even the slightest scratch
draws blood

It is clearly magical
mined from a sacred hiding place
deep within the pyramids

it had been encased for millennia
inside a darkened tomb
in the pharaoh’s jade box
clenched in his bony hands

the key is not for the book
we’ll figure that out later

the leather cover
made of dragon’s belly
protects 64 empty tattered pages

my sister entrusted it to me
so I could coax the words
with incense and singing

I hid it in a rubbermaid tub
shrouded in bubble wrap
sealed with duct tape
where they will never find it

tonight I prepare
practicing the songs
that will bring forth
the holy arcanum

BEST GIFT EVER!


As he walked the beach
it seemed his footsteps
were the first ever
to touch this sand

after a good distance
he stopped and turned
looking back to measure
how far he’d come
admiring the impressions
he’d left behind
for others to follow

but he’d forgotten the waves
the cruel waves

they'd washed away
all traces of him
the marks he’d made
were gone

erased by the tide
his untold story was lost
no one would ever know
he’d walked this beach
his heart sank
to the bottom of the sea

what was the purpose
of walking at all?

after a time
he wandered on comforted
by the warmth of the sun
no footprints ahead
for him to follow

but he’d forgotten the waves
the merciful waves
they caressed his feet
and cooled the sand
so he could walk
far and long

no longer seeking traces
to leave behind
he walked in wonder
never looking back
gratitude in each step

In the heart of the desert
our sisterhood gathered
drawn together by the call
of the Cave Creek Conclave

for five days,
we journeyed that sun-scorched land
a pilgrimage of the soul

at the heart of our retreat
beneath the canopy of stars
we were bestowed
with tokens of remembrance

hand-crafted pendants
leather leaves adorned with gold
each bearing the likeness
of a golden tree

a symbol of connection
of roots reaching deep
of branches stretching
towards the heavens

an enduring reminder
that we are but leaves
on the grander tree of existence

made by Erica’s hands
blessed by Erica’s heart

If you’re wondering what got me started writing poems, you’ll find the story here. Or, if you’re wondering why this collection is called Slender Stalk, click here. If you’re wondering where you can read the past issues of Slender Stalk, click here. If you’re wondering where you can read more of my poems, check out my website: Life at 240.

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