Successful Relationships

Check out the Gottman Institute for information on building successful relationships.

The Remains

Remains



I shall not pass this way again...
                            Eva RoseYork


It hurt to see mother's mahogany furniture go
That bureau that traveled to Texas from Virginia in 1938
Gone now,
on its way to consignment

along with the china cabinet that I grew up with,
     home to the cut glass, and crystal Viennese china
   

the ceremic geese crafted by my aunt,

my mother's jewelry box holding

one half of a pair of scrimshaw earrings
that I bought to celebrate the birth of my baby,

a Jembe drum that was played in the woods
at St. Anne's Chapel,

the sewing table where mother made my clothes, those
things are gone now,


along with the brocade sofa
thatwent to charity.

Good-bye to these things.
Hello to what remains.

My grandmother's Limoge pin,
the bed I was conceived in.


Photographs of my father during World War One,
and my mother in her evening dress during the Second,
modeling at the Officer's Club.
The secretary where she addressed Christmas cards
on the day Pearl Harbor was attacked.

My Russian lacquer boxes
along with engravings of New Archangel,
and the mission at Nulato.

These things all grace my new home,
a small apartment in Durham.
They remain

close by,
to comfort and inspire.

The Three Blessings



Jan. 28, 2015  A red-tailed hawk, wrapping, up after a chilly walk in the woods, the memory of the guy in Saladalia with the Mac Book Air.

Jan. 29, 2015  For the members of my poetry class, for the memory of my wildlife experience, for groceries and homemade soup.

Mar. 3, 2015  For meeting Mark, another traveler on the road to recovery;  for having lived in Alaska, where I first heard about Emmett Fox; for chatting to Paul, our instructor for Positive Psychology, about a strategy.

Mar. 13, 2015 For Duke Medicine, Carla, the Piedmont Wildlife Center, Gail

Mar. 14, 2015 For starting on my taxes, for Patrick at the library, for Playmakers

Mar. 15, 2015 My covenant group, healthy eating, a good book to read

Mar. 16, 2015  The Tango, Sarah Short, Suzanne Gaskins

Mar. 17, 2015  Meditation, Rest, children in the woods

Mar. 18, 2015  My experiences, Fran, Duke workshop

Mar. 19, 2015  The gym at Lakeside, Mary Oliver, my Madonna

Mar. 20, 2015  Cardinals, a decision to renew, being my own best friend; I am the most important person to me

Mar. 21, 2015 The Spark

Mar. 22, 2015  Covenant Group met at my place and we had a poetry reading; Christina's children were here

Mar. 23, 2015  Morning meditation; healthy meals; 5 o'clock meetings

Mar. 24, 2015  Taylor from church; Kimber; Amy the nurse

Mar. 25, 2015  Hope, a lecture on herbal remedies, Juanita's group

Mar. 26, 2015  Susan Spalt's poem "Blu"

Mar. 27, 2015 Talking with Neil; Shannon; Margot = Happy Day

Mar. 28, 2015  Duke computer store; Kimber's progress; John and Sue's visit

Mar. 29, 2015  A new computer!  Flowers at Duke Chapel grounds; talking to Chris and hearing about Margot's progress

Mar. 30, Swim class; selling another book; healthy eating

Mar. 31  feeling safe; warm cinnamon in my mouth; healthy eating

Apr. 1  lunch with "the Girls" at Refectory; selling another book; hope

Apr. 2  A full day; all going well with pre-op; idea for teaching

Apr. 3  Jenny and Lawrence; getting a book about my new Mac; and a new Garmin

Tyshon

Tyshon

Came in late for school that day

Deshelveled, hungry.

"Want a muffin?"

He lurched forward

and grabbed two,

before resting his head

on the desk.

He was a reject.

By the school system.

By his mother.

Kicked out of school for

hitting a teacher.

He was autistic,

but artistic.

Man, he could draw,

intricate designs

with pointed lines,

angles, and arrows.

Anyone could see he had talent.

"Crips and Bloods."

He claimed to be a Blood,

just like his twin.

I visited his house one time

when he started skipping school,

and once more,

when he was shot dead at 15.

His aunt looked stricken 

but bouyed by my presence.

I felt terrible that the school system

had left this boy behind,

but happy about

the last time he'd come

to class and I'd given him a hug.

In his casket, he looked

dignified, innocent,

in a brown suit and tie

that he could have designed himself.

Left behind

In so many ways.

Not one other teacher attended his funeral.

The Shortest Poem Ever Written

One pair of baby shoes,

barely worn.

On My Walk Today

A bamboo patch,

a trail through the woods,

a baby in a bear snowsuit,

a memorial garden surrounded by stones,

a brook,

a temple,

a community center,

a school that teaches Hebrew,

new friends made,

life is good.