POETRY AND FRIENDS

Last night, I opened my email and there was something there from my friend, Victoria. Victoria and I have known each other for a very long time (over 40 years) and I consider her to be one of my very finest friends in life.

She and I used to walk home from school almost every day with each other. She was quiet; I loved to talk. My father had committed suicide when I was seven (long before I met Victoria) but having her as a friend during my high-school days when I was trying to sort things out in my life and understand what it was all about was invaluable. She was my own private therapist. She listened, she offered [some] advice but was never judgmental. She was always just a good friend.

And she still is. She listens quietly. She offers [some] advice. But she is always there for me with only LOVE in her heart. And that is a true friend. She knows my flaws very well. But she loves me despite all the warts.

Last night she said that she had been thinking about my family and me quite a bit lately and that brought tears to my eyes. I don't hear from her regularly and sometimes I have to admit that I feel rejected. This ego we have really does get in the way, doesn't it? It's not all about me but when I don't hear from someone I care deeply about it starts me wonderin'. All those self-doubts creep in again.

She asked about my daughter and her pregnancy and then she did something truly amazing: she sent me a copy of a poem I wrote for her daughter well over thirty years ago because she thought that I might like to share it with my daughter. I remembered the poem immediately even though it has been years since I pulled it out of my poetry book and read it. When I finally did look in my book today, I saw other poems that I have written for other friends throughout the years when their children were born. One poem even made its final resting place in the center of a quilt that a few of us made for another friend. Memories bring things to the surface.

Last night, after reading her email and the poem, I went to bed sobbing...sobbing for those I have lost due to misunderstandings and poor communication, those I have lost to death, those I have lost because it was just "time" to move on. I also was sobbing because I was filled to the top with love. That line between the feelings is so fine sometimes.

We are so close to welcoming our baby Mae into the world and somehow that too has a sort of melancholy feeling to it. It also has an "over-the-moon" quality too. What an absolute joy we are about to experience. And I know my friends (those living and not) will be sharing in the joy. Thankfully, I have friends like Victoria who will be checking in on me again (just like she used to when we would walk to school and home again during high school). Quietly, lovingly, without judgment. She is poetry.

Here is the poem I wrote so many years ago.

FOR VICTORIA DURING PREGNANCY

YOU ARE LIKE A CLOUD,

BILLOWY

AND SHAPELY.

SOFT

AND FULL OF SURPRISES.

SOON THE WINDS WILL

POUND AT YOUR SIDES,

FORCING YOU TO CONTRACT AND

RELEASE ENERGY BEYOND

COMPREHENSION.

LIGHTNING, WIND, THUNDER:

THEY ALL HOLD THE KEY

TO CREATION.

A STORM IS ON ITS WAY.

THAT STORM HOLDS LIFE,

THE LIFE WITHIN YOU.

SOON DEPOSITED

UPON THE EARTH

TO LOVE, TO NURTURE,

TO CONTINUE THE CYCLE.

YOU ARE LIFE.