“I reach for words for my daily survival, and I trust in such an effort to give me a place to reside, a temporary home whose walls could easily collapse, easily become just another casualty in the flood of doubt. Yet, I keep reaching.” ~ Robert J. Pelias [1]
“Count your blessings“ © Robert J. Pelias
Write happy poems, celebrating
how you’ve made it this far,
how your health has held up,
how each day is a true gift,
a cornucopia of possibilities.
After all, who wants to hear
all that moaning and groaning,
all those poor me rumblings,
all that doom and gloom.
Write something that gives
hope, tells us how to live,
how to count our blessings.
Forget your inevitable decline.
Rejoice in what you can still mine.
I’m writing my fears, before
I am what I fear, letting lines
carry what I would rather not.
As I fall apart, I figure words,
one after another, into form.
I order them to hold still, glue
together what I want to forget.
They take the place I rather not
take so I can count my blessings:
a hand still willing to take mine,
the weight of a stone, smooth
and cold, on an autumn’s night.
As the days I have left unwind,
I struggle for the words I find.
Θ
“The poem is not a discussion, not a lecture, but an instance —an instance of attention, of noticing something in the world.” ~ Mary Oliver [2]
Just before dawn Daishin steps into the garden: 
Bare feet in deep snow
dispensing sugar water.
On a frost-covered branch
she awaits.
.
[1] Pelias, Ronald J. (2021). “Count your blessings” in: Lessons on aging and dying: a poetic autoethnography. Routledge, p.5. Read Chapter 1. [2] Oliver, Mary. (1994). A poetry handbook, p. 74.
Good morning Peter
Thank you for that poem, I love the line – ” I’m writing my fears, before I am what I fear …”
Blessings on you and the day and the tiny expectant bird, sue.
The fire leaps in the den . Warming, welcoming energetic.
Sun reflects on and within the decorations still hanging in the window.
Cards from neighbours and friends cover a solid surface and bring a welcome feeling of connection
I will finish my tea
And
Remake the bed
Your last line points to the nub of mindfulness practice. “Remaking the bed” offers the opportunity for single-minded concentration on what’s right in front of you, in this moment. Yeah! 🧑🏼🔧
Ah Peter, thank you. May the nourishment of our blessings sustain us in the day ahead. I remember you telling me many years ago, “Every breath, a new beginning”. May it be treasured!
Ah yes, Nancy — and with every exhale something ends. Not as easy on the ear, but deep down we know it to be true.
“The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.” ~ Gloria Steinem