September 2026 Open Write Day 1 of 4: Ritual Cleansing

My brother Ken and I on July 8, 2025 (my birthday) cleaning Dad’s house

Mo Daley of Illinois is our host today for the September Open Write Day 1. You can read her full prompt here. She writes:

As fall approaches, I can’t stop thinking about changes and shifts. Of course, the changing colors of Midwestern trees are always inspirational, but something else has been on my mind lately.

I look around and see the land and how I have worked with it and changed it, which leads me to wonder about those who came here before me.

Mo inspires us to consider our surroundings with these questions: How would you describe them? Have they always looked this way? Who was there before you? Perhaps 20, 50, or 100 years ago? How about long before then? Do you know what indigenous tribes were living there hundreds of years ago? You can enter your address in this online tool to inform you.

She inspires us to take a few moments to think about those who came before us, and then as a tribute to those who came before us, to write a poem about the land around us. Of course, my mind flashes back to this time last year, when my brother and I were in the midst of cleaning out a lifetime of a collector’s full collection of so many things we never even knew existed. He and Mom had been going to estate sales for years, collecting everything under the sun for the store they would one day own but never did because the one who knew how to make it happen departed this life before he did. And that’s when we discovered just how much they had accumulated……

Ritual Cleansing of 322 Magnolia and 7 Associated Storage Rooms

we circled the perimeter

of each room

beheld each dresser

each chair

each table

we acknowledged

each heirloom

each keepsake

each sacred sentiment

we wondered

whose each was

who drank from it

who ate from it

who slept on it

whose treasures it held

as we purified the space

cleaned the cobwebs

released old ghosts

freed captive belongings into new worlds

we invoked the spirits

invited new energies

cleansed the air

connecting past and present

on the timeline of forever

starting a new chapter

in the book of what remains

Day 21 of #VerseLove with Stacey Joy: Mama’s Kitchen Poems

Stacey Joy is our host today for the 21st day of #VerseLove. You can read her full prompt here. She inspires us to write Mama’s Kitchen Poems.

Kitchens are oftentimes the heartbeat of a home. They are gathering places and hold memories like no other room in a house. Stacey mentions a recent podcast episode featuring legendary author Judy Blume, finding herself mesmerized by Blume’s memories and stories of her mother’s kitchen. If you are interested in listening to that episode, here is the link. 

Next, Stacey shares the process: Let’s share our memories from our mothers’ kitchens, our own kitchens, or any kitchen that holds memories for you. 

Photo by Klaus Nielsen on Pexels.com

A Lock of Hair

there, hidden in the cakes and pies section

of Mom’s Gold Medal recipe box

with all the family secrets

an unsealed blue envelope

holds tender gold tendrils

~ cherished childhood hair ~

ethereal

long blond strands

of me

steeped

in

love, one

remaining

wisp of a child

blended, kneaded, shaped,

her own recipe for

disaster ~ aproned kitchen

ancestors gather still to check

on this bun baked through all their ovens:

did she fall? did she rise? did she turn out?

The Past, Present, and Future

Seven years before she died, my mother joined one of my daughters and me on a girls’ trip to Dahlonega, Georgia. My college roommate makes it an annual tradition to take her own mother and daughters to start the season of Christmas shopping the weekend before Thanksgiving each year, so we met them there that year, staying with them in their favorite Smith House suite overlooking the Dahlonega square. It was a magical time of welcoming the Christmas spirit, eating great food, playing dominoes and cards, reading, sleeping past 6 a.m., lingering over coffee, and shopping for those on our lists.

I’m so grateful for that time we had together. Mom knew something was different, and she suspected Parkinson’s Disease long before her official diagnosis came. Her right thumb trembled endlessly, and she found she grew weaker and felt increasingly exhausted in her daily routine, even with her normal daily tasks. I was glad our room was close to the town square so that she could go back and rest when she felt too tired to walk.

We were downstairs in one of the gift shops when Mom’s eyes lit up. She’d spotted the sale sign on Willow Tree items. I was curious about what she’d wanted from the selection, so I followed her over to the table, where she stood admiring the Nativity set.

She bought that basic Nativity set as my Christmas gift that year and added to it for the next several years, giving me a new part of the collection each year. At the time, I was thankful, but not nearly as grateful for that gift then as I am today. The memory of our time together lives on, and this is one gift that I truly cherish because it marks our trip and takes me right back to the place where she found the joy of giving this to me and building it over time. When I admire these pieces, she is right here with me. In this Nativity, I see the past, present, and future.