December 3 a.m. List Poem

If anyone ever thought I was slow to forgive, they might be right. But it happens, eventually, and I suppose that is what matters. First, I have to do the work of the mind and heart ~ relive the moments, do the playbook thing where I see all the coulda, shoulda, wouldas ~ and figure out where things stand going forward. Next, I have to pray it out. It may take awhile, but eventually, forgiveness happens. I’m convinced that every single forgiveness is on the heels of some kind of grief – grief over loss of something or someone, whether it’s trust or love or life itself. That’s just the kind of thinking I do when I see a light come on at 2:47 a.m. and hear the flush of a toilet. Because toilets make me think of all the crap, and the flush makes me think of forgiveness. Today’s poem as part of The Stafford Challenge is a list poem of things forgiven along the way.

A 3 a.m. Forgiveness List Poem Because I Couldn’t Sleep

*for those dishes she’d have wanted me to have

*for that jewelry box haunting

*for that remorseless tractor

*for that church drama walkout

*for the abandonment

*for all that vamoosing and skedaddling with so much business left undone

*for that texting tailgating fender bender boy the day of the truck

*for that tuition promise unfulfilled

*for the black mold problem

*for not speaking up

*for weight, always weight, even before hello

*for that prideful stubbornness of not admitting

*for that underbus-throwing beanspilling to the aunt and uncle

*for that secret to the grave incident she pulled

*for that showerhead lock-changing liar

*for that ignorant political post and not just asking

*for number one and fifteen

*for the last of the milk

*for San Antonio and The Alamo

*for that near miss with the Mash tent

*for that phone bill

*for that Christmas of the candle throwing

*for general sheepishness

*for that stupid Longhorn sweet potato

*for that unforewarned dinner party

*for her impersonation at the jail

*for the absurdity of the Vacation Bible School casket

*for that sunrise tattoo suspicion

*for the credit card driveway

*for telling the mortician her gray nails were a perfect fit for her

*for spray painting the bumper

*for wrecking both our cars at once

*for driving across a Costa Rican raging river

*for dancing like a drunk fool to the live band on the porch of Mullet Bay

*for that ridiculous Porsche to impress that classless redhead

*for all the denial

*for seven storage rooms since 2016

*for seven storage rooms, period

*for every last damn thing in those storage rooms

*for going down that road with the Running Ws

*for staying on the boat

*for buying flowers

*for not buying flowers

*for acting like he knew all about that wooden wine box

*for writing scarce and highly-sought after and rare as hen’s teeth in the front cover of every silverfish-infested book and brandishing them as gold

*for preaching instead of coming to my graduation

*for “you need to clean the john” and saying he’d clean the cobwebs

*for leaving us at Disney World

*for that Moonie on Bourbon Street with the candy

*for asking if this was Oxford a in a pitch black Subway train in England

*for no pictures

*for no Hospice when it was long overdue

*for asking if she’d brushed her teeth when it was clear she hadn’t, and then I had to forgive myself too for considering all the places I could have put his toothbrush before he used it again

*for showing up to preach in a leather vest like he knew how to be some kind of motorcycle gangster on the death of a friend

*for the rain off the roof in a styrofoam cup

*for nearly killing Mom with a jack-knifed trailer

*for feeding her steak when she couldn’t swallow

*for the many promises he wouldn’t leave her and the neighbors finding her fallen off the steps in the yard

*for that pair of discovery sunglasses he mistook for revelation

*for acting like that stinger was a lie when it was a proven truth

*for Aaron’s sick wife in the church foyer and the twin sister I don’t have

*for those obscene squirrel pups that could have cost him his reputation

*for not forgiving what should have been

*for forgiving too soon what should not have been

May Open Write Day 1 of 3

Today’s prompt at http://www.ethicalela.com for the first day of the May Open Write is by Dr. Sarah Donovan, who encourages poems related to the stages of forgiveness and pain. I’ve chosen a double haiku followed by a shadorma for today’s verse, blending madness and sadness of grief that lingers. I’m reminded that sometimes forgiveness is a long time coming.

For Today

all lies, no mercy ~
how can I choose forgiveness?
I’m still working through
things that can never
be replaced, lived out rightly
the way she’d wanted

perhaps in
time there will be a
change of heart
but for now
for this hour, for this moment
my soul can’t forget

#VerseLove Day 10 with JoAnne Emery – Look Closely

Today’s host at http://www.ethicalela.com for the 10th day of #VerseLove2025 is Joanne Emery, who inspires us to look closely at something in nature and write a poem about it. You can read her full prompt here.

I was on my way to Mississippi on Tuesday when I stopped for a memory card and noticed a huge mural proclaiming Greenville as Alabama’s Camellia City. I stopped and looked. I hadn’t thought of camellias in a long time, but my mother had loved them so much. It felt like a hello from Heaven.

Hello from Heaven

two days ago

passing through

Greenville, Alabama

I noticed a mural~

Alabama’s Camellia City

fuchsia petals

and yellow anthers

adorning the corners

and thought of

my mother, who loved them

yesterday

in Hattiesburg, Mississippi

I drove past a camellia

bush of these exact colors

and thought again of

my mother, who loved them

this gentle wave from Heaven

to remind me of her

sent me on a quest

to discover more about

the Japan rose

which symbolizes

advancing women’s rights

and is used to make tea

and food seasoning

and to protect the blades

of sharp cutting instruments ~

interesting, but where is the

message from Heaven?

my brother will be at

The Masters, where the

10th Hole is The Camellia Hole

so I will tell him to look for a

sign from our mother there

and perhaps, just perhaps

he’ll see a

Freedom Bell or

Cornish Show, Inspiration,

Royalty, or a Spring Festival

maybe my own message is

here, now, ~ in To Kill a

Mockingbird, Jem destroys

Mrs. Dubose’s garden when

she insults his family but is

later given a bud from the

dying woman who struggled

to overcome her

morphine addiction

and perhaps, just perhaps

this camellia wave is

every assurance that

forgiveness of others

is the work my heart

needs to do

and perhaps, just perhaps

I’ll plant a camellia this spring

to welcome more

hellos from Heaven from

my mother, who loved them

I glance up at the coffee table

in the VRBO where I’m staying

and notice a decorative box

I hadn’t noticed before now

gold-outlined camellias

as if my mother has been

sitting with me as I write this poem

and perhaps, just perhaps

she has

Watermelon Offerings

Photo by Rodion Kutsaiev on Pexels.com

Watermelon Offerings

what is this?

well, would you

believe it?

a text ~ding~

a random

communication

newsflash

like a game of Yahtzee

nine years after the full house

will this not substitute

for the apology

owed everyone involved?

this we know:

the human heart

slices cleaner

than seedless watermelon

all cut up in cubes

in a parfait dish

for the entitled

wedding soloist

August Open Write: Nestlings with Gayle Sands

Gayle Sands is our host today for the second day of the August Open Write at www.ethicalela.com.  She brings us a challenge to write a nestling poem in the essence of Irene Latham.  You can read her full prompt here.  

I’m reading Ada Limon’s collection of books, and I chose Forgiveness from The Hurting Kind as my base poem.  If I were adding to a list of the things I would hold close forever, it’s Limon's poem. Here is mine, taken from hers:

Silent Water

dumb hearts
hurting each other
shadowy places
scars
bound to the blades
bound to outrun

Almost Out of the Doghouse

I might be on my way out of the doghouse. One of our Schnoodles, Fitz, had oral surgery yesterday, and he was having no part of that! He gave me the stink eye as I left him in the capable medical hands of those who could help surgically minimize the symptoms of his CUPS Disease. He’s been suffering from debilitating ulcers in his mouth for a year now, and removing the canines has been part of the plan.

Five teeth later (three additional teeth more than we’d planned), he was ready for pickup at 4 p.m. yesterday.

There was no forgiveness in his eyes whatsoever.

His whole body language made it clear that he was not even close to forgiving me for all I’d put him through yesterday.

And although we’d picked up all the food and held treats after 9 p.m. the night leading up to his procedure, I got a reporting call from the vet saying that the bloodwork indicated he’d had a snack. I told him I didn’t see how – – we’d picked up the bowls and not given any treats at all that morning, and since he sleeps with us, I could only conclude that if he’d eaten anything, he’s got a secret stash somewhere.

Which wouldn’t surprise me. He’s the food bully of the family. Strays from the street learn their ways of food supply survival.

His brothers had completely different reactions when I brought him home with that little cone head of his. Boo Radley was concerned and wanted to be gentle. Ollie, on the other hand, teased Fitz for looking like a bit of a clown.

Fitz’s brothers welcome him home after oral surgery

But here is where I think the forgiveness was found – exactly where it usually is with Fitz: in food.

He’s supposed to be eating wet/canned food, but since we had leftover pizza in the fridge, I heated up the soft crust and cheese and hand-fed him his dinner like I would feed a baby bird. One bite at a time, until he’d had the equivalent of an entire piece of cheeze/pizza crust.

And this morning, he looks a little closer to forgiving me.

I’m not there yet, but I’ll take the baby steps to forgiveness.

I think I see a tear welling in his left eye.