The unexplainable.

If I've been quiet for awhile, there are probably two causes for it.

One, I ambitiously applied for a real critique group to try and whip my novel manuscript in to some semblance of shape. I was kindly rejected. Of course, I retreated into inaction to lick my wounds rather than pushing forward with my long-neglected manuscript. Sigh.

Two, a few weeks ago I discovered that a good friend of mine, my senior-year college roommate, is losing her years-long battle with cancer and is now in hospice care. I got a further update this morning that she hardly has the strength to fully open her eyes or speak.

This once-vibrant young woman, now on death's door, is my age. Actually, younger.

What excuse do I have for frittering away my time instead of writing?

What reason could possibly be good enough to condone allowing myself to be distracted by silly stuff while my children grow up before my eyes?

If my life ended tomorrow, would I have a legacy to leave behind?

If any good can come from such a heartbreaking end, it has to be the people she loved living their lives more intentionally. I have already been trying to do this by being more present with my boys. I'd like to build on that by really focusing on working on my writing. So many writers lived only brief lives, yet they still have more to say to future generations through their works. I hope, even in a small way, to enrich others' lives through my own work. 

With any luck, the world won't have heard the last of me when I breathe my last. My work will speak for me.

What do you hope to leave as your legacy?

A few days late, but oh well.

A few days ago was an anniversary I don't like to remember but will never forget. My father passed away 17 years ago on December 28. I have now lived one year longer without him than with him.

My heart is silent,
for it knows
what happened on this day.

A missing piece
was taken out
when Daddy passed away.

It matters not
how long the years,
the pain won't disappear;

Although it isn't
daily now,
grief still visits here.

My heart may now be silent,
but someday it will sing,
the day when my race finishes
and God ends all suffering.

All Saints' Day.

Today at church, I admired the large bouquet of long-stemmed red roses in front of the altar in memory of members' loved ones, and wished there were one in there for Rory. I thought about it, but because we haven't told anyone at church about about it, I decided not to risk someone asking a question about it. I hope I will be cradling a new little one while admiring Rory's rose next year.

Haiku News

First time in twenty-

five years an American

won this marathon.

CIT files for

fifth-largest bankruptcy, but

debtholders approve.

Sigh.

Today it became official that I have to face my loss without the comfort of another baby on the way for at least another month. I didn't know how hard that would be for me to accept until it actually happened. I know it will happen when it is meant to happen, but I just feel like getting pregnant again will help me deal with my loss. Sigh.

Two commenters have braved the Poem Analysis thread from yesterday; you can check out their thoughts here. 

Haiku News

Justice of the peace

denies marriage license to

interracial pair.

TLC sues Jon

for breach of his contract; he

claims contract is null.

Amanda Knox hopes

her Italian murder trial

ends in acquittal.

Feelers.

Today was gloomy, cold, and rainy, but I still had a happy, laughing boy to share it with, so that was OK by me. 

As we ate our dinner, I lit a candle. Today was Pregnancy Loss Remembrance Day, and at 7PM across the world people lit candles for an hour to remember their lost babies. So at 7:00 I lit a candle and watched it burn for Rory. I don't think I'll ever get over the shock of losing my little one, but I'm glad to have a time to remember his/her little life, however brief. 

I'm going to try and start off our weekly poem-analysis thread today, and I'll take part of this post to let you know that NO comment is without value (i.e., don't be afraid to post any thought you have, nothing will be considered "stupid."). I will want to know what in the poem makes you think what you think about it. If that doesn't make sense, hopefully it will when you see my thoughts on the poem. I'll come back with the poem and my thoughts in a little bit. Stay tuned!

Haiku News

Six-year-old boy found

not in family's big balloon,

but in attic box.

Peter Criss of KISS

becomes a spokesperson for

male breast cancer. Cool.

Finland first country

to require fast internet

as a legal right.

Blustery.

Today's rather tempestuous weather seemed to reflect the inner turmoil I struggled with today.

I hoped I had turned "the corner" (but really, I should know by now that doesn't exist) on struggling with losing Rory. Then I found out belatedly that a friend of mine from college lost the baby that she had already announced she was pregnant with. So she lost hers significantly later than I lost mine. So basically I was reminded that yes, it can be worse than what I went through, and someone I know has recently suffered through it. It makes me sad. I wish I had prettier words for that, but I really don't right now.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a new poetry challenge, but no one has squared off on the ode yet, so I hope to see some before tomorrow night...otherwise I will extend the deadline. 

Haiku News

SNL newbie

drops f-bomb on live TV;

bad choice of first sketch?

Watch cholesterol;

out-of-control numbers can

lead to heart disease.

Older workers thrive

into eighties, older still;

some blame recession.

Quiet weekend ahead.

After several weekends filled with lots of activity or travel, I am happy to report that aside from a nice date night tomorrow (dinner theater!), I will be able to relax at home. Just as well, as it appears our weather is cooling down and possibly raining all weekend. 

I have to store the memory of my son's sense of humor at this age. I don't want to forget when he's thirteen and rolling his eyes at my every word that he used to laugh when I blew on his hair or that when I just said "ha!" to him, he would collapse into giggles. I am really enjoying how easily amused he is, and I fear it won't last too long. 

I am so grateful to have such wonderful friends. Two weeks to the day after I started to lose my baby, I got a package in the mail: a framed copy of the poem I posted here, along with a necklace with the baby's birthstone and a tag with the initial R. (I decided to name the baby Rory--it was too early to tell if we were having a boy or girl, so it's easiest to pick a name that would work either way.) It's just perfect. I discovered as I was lying down to go to sleep last night that the tag collides with the birthstone to make a tinkling, bell-like sound that reminds me of Zuzu's rhyme, "every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." So the tinkly sound will remind me of my little angel. 

Haiku News

Terror suspect planned

to build homemade bombs and hit

New York 9/11.

Possible jerkwads:

paramedic, lawyer tried

on extortion charge.

Rotten Tomatoes

compiles the one hundred worst

movies of decade.

Unpleasantries.

I dislike it when I'm feeling like everything's fine, and then something happens that reminds me that it isn't just yet. Like last night, I got a reminder from my computer's calendar for my original first OB appointment that is no longer necessary. Sigh. Then one of my high school friends announced her pregnancy on Facebook today. Double sigh. Not that I'm not happy for her. It's just a little hard to see that when I would have been nearly to the point of announcing mine on Facebook by now. 

[abrupt subject change] If you were planning on submitting some free verse poetry, please do so before tomorrow night, as I am going to attempt to post the new poetry challenge on time on Tuesday. But really, anytime you feel like submitting a poem, I'm happy to see it. 

Haiku News

Why would someone spend

so much time qualifying

for so little pay?

MIT students

float camera into near space

and get some good pics.

Hotel employee

held on murder two charges

in condo slaying.

Keeping On

I wouldn't have called it, but I haven't cried today. Not that I've been perfectly cheerful by any means, but I haven't cried either. My attitude when faced with tragedy since my father died has usually been, "it could be worse." It could in this case, as well. Maybe that's what is keeping me together just now. I don't know. I just know that giving my boy extra snuggles all day isn't hurting either of us.

Thanks to Alicia for sharing her creativity here. Please, join her! Or at least point me in the direction of a favorite free verse poem. Here is another of my favorites, by Pablo Neruda, and translated from the Spanish by W.S. Merwin.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Haiku News

OK, what the hell?

Senate passes Amtrak bill

that lets folks pack heat??

Jerkwad of the day:

white man beats up black woman

in front of her kid.

Now they're finding bones

in Garrido's backyard; they

may be missing girls'.

Senseless Beauty

So, I can't stay away. I find writing therapeutic, regardless of what I said yesterday. Dealing with all of this sudden drama has made me appreciate the good things in my life: a husband with a terrific sense of humor and a heart bigger than anyone else's I know, a wonderfully understanding mother, and a perpetually cheerful little boy. I think I would have gone crazy already if not for those three. 

However, I can't quite bring myself to undertake a complicated poetry challenge. Therefore I will unleash my favorite form of poetry, one that requires very little explication: free verse. I am also encouraging you all to share your favorite examples of free verse with me. Please feel free to post these examples along with any attempts you choose to make in free verse. Really, the only rule in free verse is that there are no rules. Write what you feel. I'll count my work in progress from yesterday as my example, and I'll share a few of my favorites with you over the next week. For now, here is a great poem by Octavio Paz.

Water night

Night with the eyes of a horse that trembles in the night,

night with eyes of water in the field asleep

is in your eyes, a horse that trembles,

is in your eyes of secret water.

Eyes of shadow-water,

eyes of well-water,

eyes of dream-water

Silence and solitude,

two little animals moon-led,

drink in your eyes,

drink in those waters.

If you open your eyes,

night opens, doors of musk,

the secret kingdom of the water opens

flowing from the center of the night.

And if you close your eyes,

a river fills you from within,

flows forward, darkens you:

night brings its wetness to beaches in your soul.

It has also been adapted by Eric Whitacre into a spectacular song, which you can hear here.

Please, humor me and share some senseless beauty, won't you?

Haiku News

Holy freaking crap,

don't mess with Hopkins students

with samurai swords!

Yale girl's body found

in a wall off campus; no

answers yet in death.

Speaking of students,

fight broke out in Florida

high school; one guy died.