Of all the things I listed in my initial observations about Part 1, one troubles me most–my inability to blame Daddy. I’m used to blaming myself, or at least wondering whether I’m to blame for things that happen to or around me. This seems to be one of my favorite default modes. However, given the nature of the air I breathed back then, I’m surprised at my internal response: Read the rest of this entry »
small brown rabbit waits
alert before white headstone
Aslan on the move
* * * * *
Late summer
I’m on a morning walk
Passing by the cemetery
passing through
silent white headstones
urge me on
* * * * *
Sister #3
who showed me
how to live and how to die
My Colleague
who told his family story
with tears streaming down his face
My Piano Teacher
who knew me inside out
and told me I needed a boyfriend
My Mother
who began to know me
inside out and longed to know more
My Brother-in-Law
who never told anything
but the full blunt-naked truth about life
My Theology Professor
who encouraged me to speak in
my distinct voice without shame or apology
My Quaker Employer
who thanked me in writing for
relational gifts I didn’t know I possessed
Members of a Great Cloud of Witnesses
gone in body from this earth
present in my spirit
Haiku written 18 August 2012
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 March 2014
winter sun pierces
my paralyzed heart waking
frozen grief at will
* * * * *
Buried deep, forgotten
Denied, minimized, ignored
Silenced, unexamined
Held at bay
‘It wasn’t that bad’
‘Others had it worse’
Ashamed of my own story
Just another privileged woman
Who doesn’t get it
Afraid to shine a light
On darkness that seems
To have overpowered me
You mean you’re this old and
You still haven’t gotten over it
Beyond it, done already?
Normal
We want normal
How much longer will this take. . . ?
Winter sun does its work
In the fullness of God’s time
Not one moment sooner
Haiku written 25 February 2014
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 February 2014
carolina wren
peers into old beer bottle –
empty still Read the rest of this entry »
liquid call
soars above drenched grass
drink your teeeee….
I’m out on an early morning walk, trying to beat the sweltering heat and humidity
An overnight thunderstorm made things worse, not better
With each breath heavy damp air invades my lungs
I don’t see the towhee but I hear him
and burst out laughing
Thank you brother!
Smooth cool
iced tea
drops
•
•
•
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 January 2014
salty tide
laps against dock
marsh hen clacks
It’s nineteen-fifty-something Read the rest of this entry »
thick roots tangled knots
barely hanging onto bank
drink deep waters
* * *
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 January 2014
Photo credit: DAFraser, October 2012
Hoyt Arboretum, Portland, Oregon
Telling the Truth 