[haiku] Clutter

dadSo today we declutter

My husband and I

I found this painting

Canvased from my memory

Just two days after

I returned from my home town

 

It had rained a lot back there

for January

lots of people came

to commemorate his life:

our dad, her husband, their friend

 

The day after his service

We went to the mall

Debarking the car

Mom and I froze, stunned

 

Dead winter sky exposes

a rainbow’s promise

Offering us lasting hope

Of life hereafter

...

 Moment cast in time

Three years have since passed

Gave the painting to my mom

mem’ries don’t depart

clutter oh clutter

depart from my heart

 

letting go of attachment

to things  – not my dad

 

This year I will be [blank}ty

He’ll be ninety-four

Oh, would that I could, just once

knock and open heaven’s door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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“Because if you don’t…they will”

Praise, Luke 19:40
Luke 19:40

Upon arrival to an appointment with a doctor or technician, I find myself headed straight to the hospital’s gift/book store for one of these stones. Each have a different word that brings value to me for the day: a bit of hope, a part of peace, and now a new tradition. While in the lobby or waiting anywhere, I hold the rock firm in my hands, turn it over, read it, take pictures of it, run my fingers over the letters, close my eyes, often remember what He said about rocks praising him, the King of Kings.

I even place the stone in my back pant pocket and I am reminded throughout the day. Reminds me of ancient altars discussed in scripture from the days of old, usually created as a memorial to the place where God meets his people. He still does.

This one was gathered on the day of the initial meeting with the surgeon.