Spoken From Wings




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In the Spoiled Blue

Image
  I scooped white clouds from spoiled blue sky to float a sea gull wind.   For a few moments I felt the breath of eternity, the weightless wink of dreamers.   I was everything in nothing, and nothing in everything, an exhale releasing the storm.   Freedom didn’t tease or ask permission. It just took all of me exactly where I needed to fly.  ©Susie Clevenger 2022 The Sunday Muse #223 This is the blog I have dedicated to the grieving process of losing my daughter, Cynthia Dawn. In this journey there are days of light and dark and thankfully the last few have had more light. I often turn to art as therapy. In fact I call my artistic expression my journal. This week I created art from sticks and beads. When I saw this image from Carrie on the Sunday Muse it inspired me to express through poetry what my art projects did for me this past week. 
Read more

Exhales of Pink and Yellow

Image
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
Read more

Learning to Swim Where You Dreamed

Image
                               Walls of ocean blue welcome me every time I open your bedroom door. It was the color you chose amongst all the swatches that slipped through your fingers. There must have been fifty shades of sea and sky you pondered before you found the one that spoke of waves and splashes of joy. I roam amongst your things in a dream state traveling from when you were a little girl until spring brought flowers in vases earmarked with condolences. Broken doesn’t seem to be a bold enough word to describe how I feel, yet I feel shards of longing splinter my ribs where my heart lies scarred by hours of yearning to hold you. Oh sorrow, you are a conundrum. It is both tears and joy. I cry from your absence and sing because of your freedom. I stumble and I dance getting through what I’ll never get over. Dear Dawn, my precious daughter, I am trying to be strong in my weakness, be a light when I’m besieged with gray. In this room of blue I’ve splattered with growing green plants
Read more