[stylist] A New Prompt, LONGISH

[Jackie Williams]

Hi all,
The back and forth of these last few days is mind-dancing. In some ways I
agree with Joanne, and in some  instances with Bridgit. Since we are first
and foremost writers, can each of you write either a piece of flash fiction,
or short memoire, or a poem about the unusual things that are close to your
hearts and minds. rocks, essential oils, age regression, or dreams, or even
Portland! You can skip it if it is porn!
I will start you off by cutting and pasting three poems.  The first I posted
long ago when the discussions ran along similar tracks. My son disappeared
when he was twenty and his remains were not found for fourteen years. He was
on  a ledge near the top of Black Mountain in AZ, near the Superstition
Mountains. 
Some friends had a most unusual service of sorts in the Sawtooth Mountains
of Idaho just two years after he disappeared. He had worked in the forestry
service and some friends carved out a medicine wheel in such a private place
that it was not desecrated for five years. Because of his interest in Indian
lore and rocks, I researched the rocks I thought represented him best. I put
them in his medicine bag which now hangs next to my bed with the
Dream-catcher. 
Medicine Wheel
 
you taught me how to grieve
dance emotions           chant the sorrow
place myself in the power of your signs
bid my son good-bye 
buried in pain I did not hear 
his cries for help          before he left
my wonderment           that our first steps 
into stark wilderness    were matched in time 
yet became our solitary journeys 
 
it is not right that the mother 
survives the son          unless his spirit 
burns bright within her for all of her 
remaining days 
your circle of rocks enabled this
 
I put three Indian healing stones 
that captured his spirit 
into my medicine bag 
fiesta jasper     a bright coral 
            to give dynamism        lively energy 
                        power to attend us always
crazy lace agate          to provide security
            from doing things only for another's desire 
                        give confidence in any new domain 
            yet soften stubbornness 
rock crystal      versatile           powerful 
            to stimulate and focus energy 
                        to heal the body and the mind
            enhance a vision 
give powers of observation 
            arouse authority to live fully
 
we bless you   Medicine Wheel 
            as you did the healing stones 
by the spirit from the beating drum 
 
I sprinkle cornmeal      then leave
His medicine bag hangs near my heart
my son's life force and mine are converged   
 
 
I hope this next cinquain will not offend anyone. The form: Five lines of
2,4,6,8,2 syllables in iambic. Not usually rhymed, but I could not resist.
 
Citrines
 
I do
not ever have
to clean my old latrine,
for hanging on each wall I have
citrines.
 
The last poem is an Anaphora, meaning the beginning of each stanza, or line,
or whatever are started with the same word or words. In this case, the words
are, Her hands. I suggest you read this one through, not line by line, at
least at first, and then again if you want to know the oils.
 
11. Traditional Form, Anaphora
 
Magic Through Raindrop Therapy
 
Her hands are gnarled. The fingers twisted so give lie to tenderness, the
strength, the flow of energy to flesh, so cold it shivers.
As she applies the oils....limbs live, skin quivers.
Her hands give life, and so they move her own into my muscles from which use
has flown. Three drops of valor, thyme, oregano
then soft massage on soles to make them glow.
Her hands now smoothly, quickly make their moves. I murmur sweetly many,
"Ah's," and "Oo's."
Then comes the cypress, basil and the birch, some peppermint and marjoram to
search
her hands for guidance, knowledge to work in to spastic muscles, jangling
nerves, dry skin. My stress recedes as if from endless war
for now my body finally knows the score.
Her hands will finally smooth Aroma Siez and "crown of oils," the super
Ortho Ease. The miracles of frankincense and myrrh cannot compete. I do not
want to stir!
Her hands have made my universe complete. I think I'll never feet again the
heat
from hands that poured those urgent healing balms. if I can give to
others-feel no qualms-
her hands might teach me once again to love a body's need for energy above,
belie the mundane frantic lives we lead, make contact once again with life
decreed.
 
Jacqueline Williams, Mesa, AZ
Published, Sandcutters,ASPQuarterly
Incidentally,  though my sister is a Reiki Master, and I hold a
Second-degree Reiki certificate, I am not a true believer. I just know that
it helps people who can believe, just like so many other mind-body healing
methods and therapies.Raindrop Thereapy is really not Reiki, but a special
massage therapy, but my sister gives them.rAIN
 
I am working ON a poem about Portland. Did you know that it has the most
environmentally friendly garbage collection methods probably in the entire
U.S.? Also, that it has a high suicide rate due to the cold, gloomy, and
rainy weather much of the year? I took AFAA training there years ago and
loved it for this. It is the heat in triple digits, the politics, and the no
rain that make me even consider such a thing here.
 
Jackie Lee
 
Time is the school in which we learn.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
Delmore Schwartz