Spoken From Wings




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Confetti of Magic

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We were four souls in a U-Haul watching snowflakes dance across the windshield.  Change doesn’t often provide confetti, but on that winter night my husband, two small daughters, and myself were given the gift of magic  that glittered us into a bond that could never be broken. With goodbye still stinging our lips we felt like the only ones the moon had forgotten as the truck’s headlights struggled to give us eyes in the blizzard. Out of the crackle of the dashboard radio words sang, “You have to believe we are magic nothin' can stand in our way”. In that moment Oliva Newton John  gave us our hope song, our love song, our family song, our forever song. On an icy Missouri road mapped with a journey to Texas “Magic” told us it would keep us whole even when grief would leave us broken.  ©Susie Clevenger 2024 Cynthia Dawn took her last breath to the song "Magic" on January 26th, 2022...the magic continues What's Going On? ~ Magic  
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Exhales of Pink and Yellow

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April promises days without frost, riots of blossoms erasing the gray of petals sacrificed in winter. My walks through the woods  are Monet’s paintbrush dipped into shades of wild violets, emerald moss, and bluebird wing writing a path to its nest. From my window I see my front garden exhale in shades of pink and yellow roses. Their sigh of joy helps me step out of my shell of grief to imagine my daughter singing from her favorite chair on the porch. My eyes spot the first butterfly resting on a dandelion and I am encouraged by their determination to find space to grow in a horizon of concrete.  Oh April, I’ve needed you this year.  My ashy sweater of grief loosens another button. Today feels less like I’m holding my breath  while trying not to drown in undone.  ©Susie Clevenger 2024 What's Going On? ~ April Dawn Singing Someone to Watch Over Me Cynthia Dawn Clevenger  2/21/1974 - 1/26/2022
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Does Grief Have a Map

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My daughter, Cynthia Dawn and her fiancé, Daniel Daniel Bobby Blanchard JUNE 19, 1974 – SEPTEMBER 22, 2019 Cynthia Dawn Clevenger February 21, 1974 – January 26, 2022 Your faces sit in every room except the place where I sleep. In that place of dreams, you visit me where impossible has no chair. Daylight so often has me standing before your photographs never certain if I will cry or smile, or attempt to hear you speak from ink trapped beneath glass. I drift between memories and present wondering if I’m losing my mind. Does grief have a map to guide  me back to whole? Each day is an envelope I must open, a letter telling me you’re no longer here. Perhaps being strong is simply taking a step trusting I won’t fall.  ©Susie Clevenger 2024 What's Going On? ~ Elegy
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