Flesh and Ink

Flesh and Ink

            at dusk

I scrambled uphill

to the serrated horizon

of Argyle Street from

the ferry terminal to

land at an evening table

w/ a glass of light-bodied

chianti, subtle traces of

cherries & violets swirling

            dining alone

w/ the charge of writing a

new poem

a verse stirred by hundreds

of thousands

of Indian women who on

the ninth day of Attulukal

Pongala carefully take to the

tight streets

of Thiruvananthapuram in

preparation for spiritual

offering

a customary rice pudding

rice cooked with banana &

coconut

riced cooked in jaggery w/

generous amounts of ghee

garnished with taut raisins

& raw cashew nuts

a bounty

Thanksgiving for a rich

harvest

the moonlit roads fill

w/ divine sisters gathering

bricks, rinsing rice, grating

coconuts – assembled at

side-by-side

 make-shift stoves

fueled by small fires

started w/

dried palm leaves

            I only get so far w/ my

writing before my server asks

if I am ready to order

            he hovers over me in a

perky straw hat w/ a broad black

ribbon above the rim, he’s long

faced w/ a furrowed brow

& pays

no mind to the artistic task

at hand

            I order

Wagya steak tartare

w/ a soft cooked egg

squid ink bread & pickled

watermelon rind

            a sip of wine & I am

back on the page compiling

words to align a modest gruel

devoted to the fem Hindu Idol

Bhadrakali – alienator of evil

& bringer of prosperity to all

who choose to follow

while writing

            I am overcome

w/ emotion & feel as though

her benevolent protection has

circled my poise

            my flesh

            & my ink

I feel myself churn

            in feminine wilderness

feminine willingness

sketching these devotees whose

earthen pots boil over

            devotees who forget the

searing heat, the glare of the

burning sun

ululations & prayers

intoned

stridently in one fruitful

voice

            folded hands

            bowed hands

the imagery compels me to

abandon my expensive dish

to be arranged among them

around the circumference

of the shrine

                        alas

this chianti

this poem of my flesh & ink

will have to suffice

***

I’ve been pecking at this poem for a few days now. I’ll likely peck more after posting. I’ve had fun writing it so I may have to add and/or subtract in the near future. A work in progress? Yis!

Happy Friday!

In propinquity,

Nic

The Company We Keep

The Company We Keep

above all other things love rules

the affirming rewards of friendship

might be muddled or indeterminate

by imposed anxieties weighing on us

yet

no matter how fragile we become

no matter how cauterized by grief

we are a gorgeous study of propinquity

knitted tightly together with visceral detail

to conquer all with collective courage

above all other things love endures

the nurturing gratuity of feminine bonds

describe the unmapped terrain of our nature

a nonlinear narrative asserts our united oaths

the company we keep pronounces our prayers

the company we keep sustains our constitution

above all other things amity enriches

deepens our faith

enhances our confidence

heightens our convictions

supplements our trust

eliminates our fears

no matter how breakable we feel

no matter how disheartened we are

the company we keep keeps us breathing

**

Throughout my lifetime, I have been fortunate enough to encounter a great number of tremendous humans.  Some of them stayed for the briefest of moments, some stayed long enough for me to learn something either about myself or the world and others have entered my life and are here to stay.  I am grateful to every single soul for their lessons and their love, however short-lived, transistory or lasting.  But it is to those who have planted roots, those constant in my journey that I dedicate this to.  You all know who you are.

Just a friendly reminder to you all, love your people with all of your might.  Appreciate them.  Support them and be kind.  Never slight or antagonize or lie to them.  Your people are your estate, treat them as such.  Build them up, encourage them and let them shine.  Life is too short to mistreat your treasured few.

I get by with a little help from my friends …

In propinquity,

Nic

My Little Broken Heart

My Little Broken Heart

you say

my little broken heart

is arresting

equal parts

precise & reckless

curved w/ incentive

to accompany

figurative angels

without a map

home

you say

if I surrender

examine carefully

questions & answers

symmetrical lines

my little broken heart

will be the weight & measure

of a sweet dream

of a quiet prayer

but

I am always ruined

always untrusted

I am not afraid 

to be wishful 

my little broken heart

knows

I am a good writer

& I see things 

instead of feeling them

now

**

A winter storm blew in this weekend, a Nor'Easter and made a big snowy mess that resulted in a lot of shoveling, swearing and staying in.  The winds are still high today and it'll take a good 48 hours to get things back to normal out there in terms of clean-up.  I stayed in and caught up on my sleep and some things I had DVR'd.  I drank tea, gabbed to family and oddly enjoyed being hunkered down waiting for the storm to subside.

On this Sunday morning, I woke, made myself poached eggs on homemade multigrain toast, a pot of tea, chipped away at a crossword and polished this poem.  I meant to read more of my book this weekend and work more on my story but I didn't.  I just let things stew and enjoyed the quiet and the knowledge that I didn't have to go anywhere or do anything.  I waded in the peace.  Sometimes you just need to.

Today is the annual Valentine's Day tea with the Myers women.  My sisters and I are going for the 5pm seating.  It's a lovely way to spend an afternoon.  I always look forward to see what tea cup will be mine for the duration of the tea.  I'll be eating light today so I can enjoy the delicate finger sandwiches and sweets that are served along with the company of fabulous women.

Enjoy your Sunday wherever it takes you and whoever you choose to spend it.

Peace.

In propinquity,

Nic

Propinquity

My favorite word in the English language is 'propinquity'. Derived from the Latin word prope which means near. Propinquity means nearness in space, proximity; close kinship and/or similarity. I was introduced to the word by Sheree Fitch during one of our many conversations we shared during the run of her adult play 'Light A Little Candle' – culled from her book of poetry called, In This House Are Many Women. This was the play I spent so many days working on in so many respects with a group of talented and dedicated females. Heralded (as mentioned in a previous blog) as one of the best times of my life. Sheree and I were talking about the book of poems, writings that explore a very personal and intimate time in her life. She titled one fraction of poems 'Propinquity'. I asked her about the word and as with me, it was passed down to her from someone she both loved and looked up to and solidified the power of kinship and friendship. The rest of our conversation was about the women we admire; mothers, writers, friends, sisters and every women who stood for something. That's what that whole run was about for me, representing femininity, strength, obstacles and rising above adversity. I adopted propinquity. I used it, continue to feel it and share whenever possible.

In my house there are many women. Metaphorically speaking of course. Women who have endured abuse and injustices, women who have loved and lost and stand tall in spite of their trials, women who birth children and raise them as tall trees, women who write, women who sing, women who create, women who fight, women who shape and mold this big beautiful world we live in; nurturing, guiding and building with the tools provided. These women live in my house, they roam my halls, sip my tea, share my meals and their heart. Some of these women share my city, some of these women live thousands of miles away but they are all close in proximity, kindred spirits and my accumulated family, both by blood and breath. Having love in your life is essential to survival but having women in your life who will stand shoulder to shoulder with you, to walk with you and in your shoes when need be and speak for you when you cannot is a special kind of love, it's a unique brand of union and one that has transcended time. Women are doing it for themselves, girls do want to have fun, we are family; in propinquitious unison.

Sheree's word resonated with me. It burrowed deeply into my psyche. It became part of my being and part of the way I forge friendships, relationships and impressions. At least, that's my hope. I personally strive to be a good human, to be kind and loving, to foster goodness in my interpersonal interactions. The people who pass through my life and the ones who choose to stay are important to me. I work terribly hard to convey that. I believe in it, in propinquity. In love and its power. Being human, I have failed more than I'd like to mention but I lead my life with good intentions, I regard those who cross my path with respect and unconditional, non-judgmental care. Before meeting Sheree, I may have partially been that kind of person but because of one word, the stories and the time spent, I re-evaluated my attitude and decided to alter my whole person. Seems drastic to some I'm sure but it's all very true. I turned away from the unsureness of others and opened myself to a whole new way of thinking and behaving. Some life lessons are bigger than others and my epiphany was life-changing. All because of one word.

Whether I've loved you and lost you or I love you and you are present in my life right now, you can be certain that you are regarded in the highest esteem. My circle is sacred and for those of you in it, soulful sisters especially, you are valued and appreciated more than you could ever know and are celebrated for your troubles and your triumphs.

And I leave you with a tiny poem written for a fabulous writer friend, someone I consider to be one of my many soul-mates. She's a intelligent, thoughtful, she's my Helen of Troy and my snail mail buddy.

This one is for you, Ru:

Tea

(for Ru)

your words pour in

steeped in propinquity

over peaceful terrain

sipped with joy

savored with love

a pot of tea with you

is a blessing

Blessings. Count yours. Make propinquity yours. Pay it forward.

In propinquity,

Nic