The last line here has resonance with the Serenity Prayer - “the wisdom to know the difference” - and isn’t that the crux of it all?? Thank you for this.
What a remarkable, beautiful poem, Trish. I felt joy, sorrow, worry, hope, elation and and deep sense of peace. I love "companions appear whenever I keep my eyes open." Indeed, you have made them appear for me in this wonderful heart song. I am grateful you are in this world.
Yay for you, A., bringing the haiku to this wonderful circle. How appropriate for winter, a haiku, short and sweet like the trips we make outside on a northern night like this, where everything is frozen. Your bright and searching spirit is a delightful tonic for my heart!
So nice, Julie. "Rain dripping down the windowpane like tears of grief never resolved." Oh my, that line is a poem all by itself. It made me think of a song I discoverted in college by Tim Moore called Second Avenue." This beauitful song ends with "that all the things that we felt, must eventually melt and fade, like the frost on my window pane, where I wrote I am you, on Second Avenue." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3dvDkfGUwY
Yes, that companions can be both animate and not, both pleasant and sometimes uncomfortable, can bring you backwards in time to an inner child or other memories. This is such a richly peopled poem.
I was telling someone the other day that shame seems to be a constant companion. Then when this prompt came up, it had to be included along with grief. Because they truly are with me my whole life.
Today was a long road trip day with my dear wife and our nervous pitbull-lab mix Melon, so I had lots of time to appreciate them and got to free writing at the hotel:
This landed on my broken open heart as I let my sweet pup go yesterday. My nearly constant companion of 9 years. I’m looking for him on every bed and couch. Pretending he’s having a sleepover with my daughter.
I’m thinking of the game we played. Him on the couch watching me cook in the kitchen and then I use the voice meant only for him just to hear his tail thwap. I return to my busyness (tail goes still) then tell him again that momma loves him so much (thwaping returns). On like that until dinner’s ready.
Oh Michelle, I'm so so sorry for your loss. There is no kind of grief like this one, losing a companion that holds and steadies us every single day. I'm sending you so much love and care this season.
This is a marvelous poem, Becca! That you wrote it at the end of a long day in a hotel is even more remarkable! You display usch beauitful imagery, and you magnify the ordinary daily beauty with your lyrical phrasing. Each line is splendid, and these:
"Like witnessing
your reverence: stunned still
in the open cathedral of golden fog
on the forest trail I’m showing you."
I will read this again and again, the way I listen to a lovely song time after time. I also love Melon's name!
Thank you so fully for reading and seeing it, Larry! My writing process is like an iceberg - the vast majority happens in my head and heart before ever picking up the pen or keyboard... but even so, yes, so glad I found the time!
Love this, Heidi! Seems to resonate with Mary Oliver on the appreciation for the geese. There’s something so whole about knowing “your place in the family of things” to quote her -- our kinship to creatures
Thanks Becca! I am driving to Florida to visit my mother in law and finding joy in these prompts. Nature helps me feel grounded, even when on the move!
On 2/21 I read quickly for the prompt from Kaitlin. I didn't read the entire email. I jotted down the word 'compassion' not companionship. Ironically what I wrote is both...no coincidence. Here it is.
First Awareness of Compassion
My first experience of being aware of receiving compassion happened when I was about 14 years old. I was not a child void of hugs nor comfort when crying or upset. But the cognitive understanding of receiving compassion clicked on a cold wintery night just before supper.
My mother had been admitted to the hospital that morning for surgery on her throat for ‘tumors’; that was the only word I heard. Being the oldest, I was in charge of watching my two younger siblings after school on a routine basis. For three years I had been the ‘prep-cook’ for the family and when Mom arrived home from work at 5: 15 pm, she would finish the meal. Dad’s arrival time for supper was unpredictable, he often worked out of town and then drove home in the dark. We always waited supper for him, no matter the hour.
This night felt strangely ‘eerie’ to me. Mom would not be home; she was staying overnight in the hospital. We had a house phone but no calls had come as to how Mom had done in surgery, etc. The clock struck 5:30 pm and a big lump arrived in my throat. I swallowed down my tears, couldn’t let my siblings see me cry. Then there was a knock at the back door.
Back door knocks meant it was a neighbor. I opened the door and there stood Mrs. Erlene Rumsey, the mother of two of my life-long playmates. “I brought you something, can I come in?”
Most certainly, no reason to refuse Mrs. Rumsey. She came through the screened porch and stepped into the kitchen. In her hand was a dish covered with a towel. “I knew you would be in charge tonight and I wanted to help you out with you Mom not being here and all.”
She sat the dish on the edge of the kitchen table…the lump in my throat suddenly opened and flooded down my cheeks. Mrs. Ramsey wrapped her arms around me and held me. I don’t remember that she said anything…I just remember melting into the arms of a trusted adult who knew I felt alone and overwhelmed that night.
Homemade cornbread and a genuine hug of love was my first cognitive understanding of compassion.
Thank you Larry for your comments. Quite poignant your poem on compansionship. And indeed, some are with us for a reason, a season or a life-time if we are fortunate. "a closet full of memories, and songs left unsung"...tugs at both the losses in my life and pulls me to celebration of those present and the privilege to have companions. Thanks for sharing the spectrum of 'companionship'
A long day on this longest night. I read the prompt and Kaitlin's poem early this morning, write a very sjort poem, let it sit while the day danced with me. Somehow, this much longer poem emerged.
Companionship
“We travelled together for a while,
Even though we were headed in different directions.”
Joe began his sharing at Bill’s celebration of life
All those years ago.
Big brother, poet, teacher, storyteller, dancer,
Guardian of the forest; keeper of the wisdom.
A brave companion of the road, gone too soon.
We, too, were moving in different directions.
Remembering Joe’s words, I ponder
all the companions along the way.
Those whose paths overlapped for a season,
the tragic departures borne of betrayal and lies,
the friends who just vanished, never to be found again.
A closet full of memories and songs left unsung.
Tonight, frigid cold winter solstice evening,
fire curling around the strands of our lives,
my heart goes back to the Vermont meadow,
winter solstice so very long ago,
deep snow welcoming us to our new home.
Newlyweds dancing in the glow of love all around;
Giant stilt puppets marching over the hillside,
bonfires roaring in the snow laden fields,
saxophones and flutes and free bread,
this secluded garden full of dreamers
Yearning to light the sky.
The road promised to wind free, forever.
Forty years on, I look across cozy winter haven
you reading on the couch, cats framing your body,
the trails we traveled too numerous to count.
Our lives have woven together two searching hearts,
dreamer and dancer companion to
clear eyed prophet and wisdom keeper.
Some of the roads have been long and hard,
the challenges and pain almost pushing us away
from the love we have known.
I don’t know where these next steps will take us.
I truly pray it will be together; the dreaming heart
and the one who sees beyond the hillside.
Two souls colliding with each other in another winter,
in another place, our maps just beginning to be drawn.
When I think of the word companionship, I think of a relationship with which I am totally at ease with the other person and that circle for me is very very small. My spouse, my children, and my mother...it was particularly her I thought of as I wrote this. We have spent so much more time together since my father died a few years ago and even more so since a car accident left her needing some care for awhile earlier this fall.
Companions
Transcending friendship, beyond family,
Telling the same stories or stretches of silence with
These are beautiful lines, Karri. "Telling the same stories or stretches of silence with no need for conversation." So true--real comfort in those special ones where no words are needed. I like the connections you make in your poems and how they resonate outward. Such gems!
I love this Annalise. What a wonderful way to invite someone to join for a time, “accompany me.” “Protect me from that cold and fearful wind of loneliness.” What a lovely line.
COMPANIONSHIP
A time to weep.
A time to laugh.
A time to mourn.
A time to dance.
A time to shut the fuck up
and just sit with me.
To know what time it is.
"To know what time it is." Indeed, Chuck.
The last line here has resonance with the Serenity Prayer - “the wisdom to know the difference” - and isn’t that the crux of it all?? Thank you for this.
amen....
Ecclesiastes and Pete Seeger would be proud of you, Chuck! I am too!
Companionship
These days I am finding
that I am never alone.
Companions appear
wherever I keep my eyes open.
The morning moon
surprises me with her
unexpected presence.
The mama deer bravely
leaves the winter woods
to munch on grass
she finds in our winter yard.
Empty tree branches
wave to me as I walk,
showing me how
yielded they are to
the wind that comes their way.
An old friend
sends a message,
proving I was on her mind.
A total stranger and I
laugh in the parking lot
as we realize we are both
hustling to get ready
for the holidays.
I hear a song and
remember loved ones
gone too soon,
feeling them with me
as I listen.
Eating my lunch,
I realize all the people
and things and nature
that worked together
to bring me my food,
realizing they are all
here with me.
Filled with gratitude,
I know I am never alone.
So many companions.
"Companions appear wherever I keep my eyes open" yes! ❤️
What a remarkable, beautiful poem, Trish. I felt joy, sorrow, worry, hope, elation and and deep sense of peace. I love "companions appear whenever I keep my eyes open." Indeed, you have made them appear for me in this wonderful heart song. I am grateful you are in this world.
Yes! Beautiful observations!
I love this. Such a heartening reminder of our interconnectedness with all around us.
Thanks to previous prompts, whenever I get stuck, I opt for a haiku:
Hands held together,
feet stepping in tandem toward
futures intertwined
Love this, A!!
Wonderful!
Yay for you, A., bringing the haiku to this wonderful circle. How appropriate for winter, a haiku, short and sweet like the trips we make outside on a northern night like this, where everything is frozen. Your bright and searching spirit is a delightful tonic for my heart!
I find companions in many places…
In a crow’s caw followed by their contented gurgling purr.
From the smell of pine needles that lay upon my yule altar.
Rain dripping down the windowpane like tears of grief never resolved.
Flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows upon my walls.
A group of women I call my tribe, my sweet wild soul sisters.
Crispy leaves that I skip through enabling me to be a kid once again.
Words of shame reminding me of traumas from long ago.
My hubby, whom I walk alongside both in silence and in conversation.
So nice, Julie. "Rain dripping down the windowpane like tears of grief never resolved." Oh my, that line is a poem all by itself. It made me think of a song I discoverted in college by Tim Moore called Second Avenue." This beauitful song ends with "that all the things that we felt, must eventually melt and fade, like the frost on my window pane, where I wrote I am you, on Second Avenue." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3dvDkfGUwY
Thanks Larry! I had never heard of Tim Moore, appreciate you for sharing this with me. Wow what a beautiful song and voice. Touched me....
Yes, that companions can be both animate and not, both pleasant and sometimes uncomfortable, can bring you backwards in time to an inner child or other memories. This is such a richly peopled poem.
I was telling someone the other day that shame seems to be a constant companion. Then when this prompt came up, it had to be included along with grief. Because they truly are with me my whole life.
Such a visual and I agree ...the tears of grief never resolved....genius,
.like tears of grief never resolved.
.Woof.
Today was a long road trip day with my dear wife and our nervous pitbull-lab mix Melon, so I had lots of time to appreciate them and got to free writing at the hotel:
“The Triangle of Seeing”
We’ve heard it called a “third thing”:
something beyond each other to see,
and in seeing, see
each other afresh. Like witnessing
your reverence: stunned still
in the open cathedral of golden fog
on the forest trail I’m showing you.
Or the photo you took at the aquarium:
under rainbow baseball cap,
my kid-at-the-splash-pad smile
to watch seals swim so close,
their canine whiskers and solemn eyes.
No better third thing than our dog.
When I see Melon see you get home,
hear the drumming tail on cushions;
When I see your eyes melt under the sweet
earth scent of her brown velvet ears
and white-socked toes, still damp
with winter grass and molehill mud;
When Melon turns the pet store aisle
and lunges your leash arm forward, towards me,
wild tongue a pink flag, eyes flung wide
as windows hiding nothing, and I see you
see her seeing me. Her joy foretells our own.
I wouldn’t have chosen this, years ago,
too scared to hold a creature and see
in her eyes, or hear in her whine,
the question: will you stay? Oh third
and beloved creature, and oh avowed wife,
and oh my self, I will
try, I will, and with practice,
this triangle becomes a prism,
refracting, and I see myself
as you must be lucky enough
to do every day. Soft, unwalled,
with all this light pouring through.
This landed on my broken open heart as I let my sweet pup go yesterday. My nearly constant companion of 9 years. I’m looking for him on every bed and couch. Pretending he’s having a sleepover with my daughter.
I’m thinking of the game we played. Him on the couch watching me cook in the kitchen and then I use the voice meant only for him just to hear his tail thwap. I return to my busyness (tail goes still) then tell him again that momma loves him so much (thwaping returns). On like that until dinner’s ready.
“...eyes flung wide
as windows hiding nothing, and I see you
see her seeing me. Her joy foretells our own.”
Oh Michelle, I'm so so sorry for your loss. There is no kind of grief like this one, losing a companion that holds and steadies us every single day. I'm sending you so much love and care this season.
This is a marvelous poem, Becca! That you wrote it at the end of a long day in a hotel is even more remarkable! You display usch beauitful imagery, and you magnify the ordinary daily beauty with your lyrical phrasing. Each line is splendid, and these:
"Like witnessing
your reverence: stunned still
in the open cathedral of golden fog
on the forest trail I’m showing you."
I will read this again and again, the way I listen to a lovely song time after time. I also love Melon's name!
Thank you so fully for reading and seeing it, Larry! My writing process is like an iceberg - the vast majority happens in my head and heart before ever picking up the pen or keyboard... but even so, yes, so glad I found the time!
Becca, I hear you there! Most of what I conjure and create vanishes into the light! I am so glad you found the time!!!
...Beautiful...
Thank you, Kaitlin, for this heartening post. Happy winter solstice.
For me, companionship is human and far more often, avian.
We are not meant to be alone
Let us go together
You do not have pass through this life
On rugged individualism, or with those who echo you or your beliefs
Choose your companions wisely
The crows, the chickadees, the Canada geese honking in morning light and under moon
They are not solitary
They are flocks, murders, a banditry
To earn the company of the birds is
To always have a brood or a wisdom, a cast, a bevy, a bouquet
Love this, Heidi! Seems to resonate with Mary Oliver on the appreciation for the geese. There’s something so whole about knowing “your place in the family of things” to quote her -- our kinship to creatures
Thanks Becca! I am driving to Florida to visit my mother in law and finding joy in these prompts. Nature helps me feel grounded, even when on the move!
This is wonderful, Heidi. "To earn the company of the birds..." Truly magic! What splendid imagery you invoke! Thank you!
Thank you Larry! I so enjoy reading others' words and feedback. And I love your name, "Writes Leading with Love"too!
Thank you Heidi! I also enjoy thre wonderful gifts and offerings flowing through here. I am grateful you are among us!
On 2/21 I read quickly for the prompt from Kaitlin. I didn't read the entire email. I jotted down the word 'compassion' not companionship. Ironically what I wrote is both...no coincidence. Here it is.
First Awareness of Compassion
My first experience of being aware of receiving compassion happened when I was about 14 years old. I was not a child void of hugs nor comfort when crying or upset. But the cognitive understanding of receiving compassion clicked on a cold wintery night just before supper.
My mother had been admitted to the hospital that morning for surgery on her throat for ‘tumors’; that was the only word I heard. Being the oldest, I was in charge of watching my two younger siblings after school on a routine basis. For three years I had been the ‘prep-cook’ for the family and when Mom arrived home from work at 5: 15 pm, she would finish the meal. Dad’s arrival time for supper was unpredictable, he often worked out of town and then drove home in the dark. We always waited supper for him, no matter the hour.
This night felt strangely ‘eerie’ to me. Mom would not be home; she was staying overnight in the hospital. We had a house phone but no calls had come as to how Mom had done in surgery, etc. The clock struck 5:30 pm and a big lump arrived in my throat. I swallowed down my tears, couldn’t let my siblings see me cry. Then there was a knock at the back door.
Back door knocks meant it was a neighbor. I opened the door and there stood Mrs. Erlene Rumsey, the mother of two of my life-long playmates. “I brought you something, can I come in?”
Most certainly, no reason to refuse Mrs. Rumsey. She came through the screened porch and stepped into the kitchen. In her hand was a dish covered with a towel. “I knew you would be in charge tonight and I wanted to help you out with you Mom not being here and all.”
She sat the dish on the edge of the kitchen table…the lump in my throat suddenly opened and flooded down my cheeks. Mrs. Ramsey wrapped her arms around me and held me. I don’t remember that she said anything…I just remember melting into the arms of a trusted adult who knew I felt alone and overwhelmed that night.
Homemade cornbread and a genuine hug of love was my first cognitive understanding of compassion.
Thank you Kay. This world always need more doses of compassion and wisdom like yours.
Thank you Larry for your comments. Quite poignant your poem on compansionship. And indeed, some are with us for a reason, a season or a life-time if we are fortunate. "a closet full of memories, and songs left unsung"...tugs at both the losses in my life and pulls me to celebration of those present and the privilege to have companions. Thanks for sharing the spectrum of 'companionship'
A long day on this longest night. I read the prompt and Kaitlin's poem early this morning, write a very sjort poem, let it sit while the day danced with me. Somehow, this much longer poem emerged.
Companionship
“We travelled together for a while,
Even though we were headed in different directions.”
Joe began his sharing at Bill’s celebration of life
All those years ago.
Big brother, poet, teacher, storyteller, dancer,
Guardian of the forest; keeper of the wisdom.
A brave companion of the road, gone too soon.
We, too, were moving in different directions.
Remembering Joe’s words, I ponder
all the companions along the way.
Those whose paths overlapped for a season,
the tragic departures borne of betrayal and lies,
the friends who just vanished, never to be found again.
A closet full of memories and songs left unsung.
Tonight, frigid cold winter solstice evening,
fire curling around the strands of our lives,
my heart goes back to the Vermont meadow,
winter solstice so very long ago,
deep snow welcoming us to our new home.
Newlyweds dancing in the glow of love all around;
Giant stilt puppets marching over the hillside,
bonfires roaring in the snow laden fields,
saxophones and flutes and free bread,
this secluded garden full of dreamers
Yearning to light the sky.
The road promised to wind free, forever.
Forty years on, I look across cozy winter haven
you reading on the couch, cats framing your body,
the trails we traveled too numerous to count.
Our lives have woven together two searching hearts,
dreamer and dancer companion to
clear eyed prophet and wisdom keeper.
Some of the roads have been long and hard,
the challenges and pain almost pushing us away
from the love we have known.
I don’t know where these next steps will take us.
I truly pray it will be together; the dreaming heart
and the one who sees beyond the hillside.
Two souls colliding with each other in another winter,
in another place, our maps just beginning to be drawn.
Willing to walk the next steps together,
no matter what we may have planned.
What a beautiful touching journey through time... Really related to the last ten lines or so, feeling that deeply!
Thank you Julie. Blessings in the growing light!
From a solstice long ago to now... beautiful and poignant reflection on the long journey shared 💜
Thank you Becca. Thankful for the long journeys! Blessed solstice season to you and your beloveds!
ahhhhh....tears on this one! But ending with a smile <3
Thank you Karri--tears and smiles, that about sums up life! Wishing you the very best!
When I think of the word companionship, I think of a relationship with which I am totally at ease with the other person and that circle for me is very very small. My spouse, my children, and my mother...it was particularly her I thought of as I wrote this. We have spent so much more time together since my father died a few years ago and even more so since a car accident left her needing some care for awhile earlier this fall.
Companions
Transcending friendship, beyond family,
Telling the same stories or stretches of silence with
No need for conversation.
Comfortable and comforting,
As natural as breathing.
Although sometimes
We need a breather from one another.
Companionship is familiar.
Companionship is safe.
Companionship is us.
-Karri Temple Brackett
12/21/23
The "no need for conversation", yup, that's it.
These are beautiful lines, Karri. "Telling the same stories or stretches of silence with no need for conversation." So true--real comfort in those special ones where no words are needed. I like the connections you make in your poems and how they resonate outward. Such gems!
My Companion
My companion today is the soft sound of raindrops landing upon the grass.
Bouncing on the leaves of a tree and keeping me company.
Enveloping me in its cool arms and whispering softly at my neck, ‘Come join me and dance.’
Yum, "come join me and dance." Did you?
I did in my thoughts ☺️
What a sweet poem! "whispering softly at my neck, come join me and dance." What a powerful force in just three profound lines!
Thank you Larry
When I was in college, I had a friend from Honduras
When she wanted to invite some one
On an errand or adventure
She said, "accompany me"
Accompany--company--companion
She said, "accompany me,"
I heard, "be my companion."
Be with me for the miniscule, the mundane
Make them memorable
Be my companion
Protect me from that cold and fearful wind of loneliness
Accompany me.
I love this Annalise. What a wonderful way to invite someone to join for a time, “accompany me.” “Protect me from that cold and fearful wind of loneliness.” What a lovely line.
Thank you 😊
I am a therapist so write this as a reflection after a day at work.
I am here to hear your darkness,
To hold space for your pain.
50 minutes give or take,
It is my choice to be here for you.
You matter, you are seen and heard.
Your fortunate clients and therapies are blessed! 🥰