Starfish Tattoo
Growing
up in Michigan,
I
used to love walking the beach with my dad,
looking
for Petoskey stones.
Those
millions-of-years-old fossilized coral
that
lived along the shores of Lake Michigan
when
that part of the country was
covered
by ocean.
When
dry,
they
look like an ordinary gray, smooth rock.
But
when touched by water,
the
intricate hexagonal fossil
emerges
in a magical revealing of history.
Flash
forward.
20
years later,
after
another career entirely,
I
was starting a teacher training program.
On
opening day,
my
mentor read us a story that went something like this.
A
boy was standing on a beach,
which
was covered with starfish.
The
boy was gently, thoughtfully throwing
the
starfish back into the water,
one
at a time.
A
man came up to the boy and said,
“You
can stop doing that.
They’re
just going to wash back
up
onto the shore and die.
What
you’re doing doesn’t matter.”
The
boy,
holding
a starfish in his hand, replied,
“It
matters to this one,”
as
he tossed it into the ocean.
The
story helped us realize
that
although the work we do as teachers
can
feel overwhelming at times,
if
we keep the starfish in our sites,
we
will know in our hearts and in our minds
that
it matters to this one.
And
we’ll keep going.
A
few years later,
after
I was in to my teaching career,
I
got hooked on tattoos
after
a lifetime of thinking I’d never have one.
I
got introduced to them in the book series
Divergent
and
my life was changing and unfolding
in
different directions that year.
I
was entranced by tattoos.
Still
am.
They
can be art and beautiful.
They
say something meaningful
about
various times in a life.
So
I started thinking of getting one myself.
It
didn’t take long to weave together
the
memories of walking the beaches with my dad
and
the message of the starfish.
My
art-teacher friend designed it and
I
went to a local tattoo shop to have it
inked
on my ankle.
Each
time I see it,
I’m
reminded of positive,
wholesome,
uplifting
memories.
It
matters to this one.
When Death Comes Swiftly
when
death comes swiftly
there’s
blessing in the
gentle
passing
but
when
death comes swiftly
we
have less time
for
goodbyes
and
when
death comes swiftly
sometimes
there is
no
goodbye
I
found a letter
from
you in my drawer today–
nice
to hear your voice
echo
in my soul again
through
the words on the page
Family
Ties
That
moment when your baby or child is handed to you or introduced for the very
first time is magical. For me family came through adoption and step-parenthood.
For others it comes through birth, fostering or mentoring relationships. It's
all the same stem ... for at the root, family is formed through love. My
moments were in 1990 at the airport, in 1995 in the hospital lobby and in 2015
at a 4th of July BBQ, but they’re fresh in my memory.
myriad
ways, family--
after
a lifetime of waiting
my
arms are full
I
wanted a cat
you
longed for a home
we
rescued each other
wearing
black
when
you’re a cat lover–
nonsensical
cat
purrs on my lap
while
I sip coffee and write
my
morning still life
spooned
by purring cat
curled
up beside me
tighter
than tight
my
cat has claimed
my
chaise lounge on the patio
as
his personal throne
when
I attempt to
sit
in his spot of choice
he
scoffs at me
my
cats are running
around
the patio today
chasing
morning bugs
my
cat is listening
to
instrumental guitar
with
me and purring
pillow
fell over
each
cat, one by one
claimed
the throne
cats
meandering
inside
and out to
adventure
and warm up
his
paw on my foot
all
morning, he stayed like this
just
to show he cared
feeding
my cats
two
times a day like clockwork
rubs
and purrs my tip
double
cat mojo
syncopated
purring with
kneading
on the side
sadness
takes hold of
my
tender, aching heart till
you
purr beside me
both
cats on my lap
syncopated
purring
lovely
Friday night
my
cat tiptoes
into
the gloaming
to
explore the night
years
of cat hairs
pulled
up from the carpet–
new
vacuum cleaner
you purred so loudly
a chorus of missingness
when I walked in the door
the
space heaters
my
cats and I--
fending
off the cold
my
cats--
turn
my life into their
personal
baubles
as
I turn the pages
your
voice whispers the words
through
the years
those
aha moments--
vision
shifts
life
is less murky
leaning toward light
I let go of the dark
and fall into hope
the
other side
of
regret–
forgiveness
Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints,
writes and hikes. Her poetry has appeared in a variety of journals, including
Lothlorien, The Ravens Perch, HaikUniverse, Haiku Corner, Cold Moon Journal,
Scarlet Dragonfly and The Haiku Foundation.
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