The Lone Surfer

I feel like an old, haggard surfer,
 bent over my board,
 legs in the water,
hoping for the wave I fear I have
missed.
The larger waves march across the ocean floor
racing underneath me and
I rise with their chi running to the shore,
hopeful
there will be one more for me to
edge up onto the lip,
step back onto this board,
my magic carpet for a life time,
find my balance,
push up onto the curl and
find that place
 where the energy of life
arrives at my feet,
climbs up my legs and
into my body as
I find the teetering force-
the will carry me aloft towards the shore,
ebullient,
empowered and
content to be
the lone surfer patient enough to
wait for the moment when
fear becomes hope
one more time.

My sister's doorstep

Can I turn my back on
the darkness that has come to
rest in
 the circle of my arms and
cast it wide,
stride away and into
 the rest of my life,
quieting Sydney's relentless complaints and fears
and wake up in
another town,
at my sister's doorstep and offer her a cup of
morning coffee,
my headlamp tucked into the pocket of
my bathrobe,
excited,
afraid,
curious and hungry for more before
we both exit?

The Cartier Tiara

All of that
sky
awaits me,
patient and eternal,
infinite,
hope,
beauty and
silence
as
keenly sculpted as any
Cartier tiara.

Poolside

Poolside somewhere at
sunset,
some oddity of a life may have been
mine
for the living
with merriment and joy
just out of
reach,
my choices got me to here
 though I had no other
insights.
Pulled from the wreckage of
a life not lived
well,
I chose the circus and not the seat
in the audience
as the lights and the magic
did blind my path.

Diamonds In The Rough

If I had know then
 that the handbook of life had
 been lost to the fire before I was
born,
 torn asunder
by the parents who
 could not love
 one another without
 drawing knives,
I may have just turned
 around and
 headed back,
 saving myself an entire life to here,
 digging holes trying to find
the instructions for
 living and
paying special attention to the
words of others who have
 walked across the Mohave without
water,
 lived on nuts and berries in
the Sierras,
 fashioned shoes out of tires
shredded by 18 wheelers climbing
The Grapevine.
Growing old on earth
 vanquished that child in me to
the shadows for survival
 with all of her dreams glistening
 and bejeweled like
diamonds in the rough.

The Ashes Of Evening

We were able to attempt to entertain Jade yesterday at a PetExpo by putting him in front of other dog butts and finding new ways to keep him interested in life, change and well, dog butts.  I was pretty excited having a chance to see other dogs and continue to put salve on that place in my heart freshly wounded by Omi's death. 

We move forward, one step and then stall, then take more steps and then pause to remember all she was and how quickly her exit left us feeling lost.

There were hawkers of dog paraphernalia and more than a few rescue groups giving out stale dog bones that Jade refused to eat.  We met up with our Greyhound rescue group and met Rogue, Felicia, CiCi and Georgio.  Butt sniffing was shared and we felt we had reached our maximum threshold of fun and toddled home.

As evening began to show her reach, we took Omi's ashes and twelve red roses down to the creek walk to scatter what was once a red tornado amongst the leaves and the end of a warm October day. Something about it felt right and something about it felt all wrong as I come to terms with these weeks of my plans for a few more years with both Greyhounds as I patch myself together after a long dry spell.

Rituals are important to me and especially in marking the death of one so close.  Omi loved the creek walk we do every morning and I thought of her bouncy walk, kind of built like Wendy the Whippet  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FEOoCiq16g There has not been a day that I haven't looked outside on the patio dog beds for Omi, our polar girl who loved to sleep outside in the cold.  There will be more of those days to come as we come to terms with the ashes of this evening.

The Last Dog Standing

As we three get ready for the Greyhound reunion, I find that place in me that mourns the death of Omi who came with us last year, to stand with other ex-racer Greyhound families still devoted to these stoic, graceful, injured, funny and beautiful dogs used as gambling machines for ignorant humans. We all come together to experience "diving for hot dogs," the "50 yard dash," and "the longest tail" contest in order to bring some humor to the commitment we have to these exploited dogs.

Some of us are just plain folks and some of us are a bit fanatical yet all of us share the love we have for these amazing sight hounds.  For us, maybe today will bring some salve to our broken hearts just to see dozens of Greyhounds, reminding us of what Omi, Ginger, Rosie and Major were to us and that there are many still that need homes.  The "race industry" is diminished yet Greyhounds are still dispatched in cruel ways after their race careers come to an end.  We will be there to catch them and love them big.

For Jade, being the last dog standing in our home has its benefits, like sleeping in with "flea" on a cold morning in October before it is time to pile in the car for our next adventure.