Beloved

sisterly love SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

In the arms of a sister

Gentle hugs

Soft sang songs

Whispered small things of lovely

A beloved

Belongs.

 

 

For The Photo Challenge

Tooth Booth

craftgawker tooth

Photo: Craftgawker.com

 

“I have a cavity in my mouth!” she announced, elated.

“You do?” I couldn’t suppress a smile. The contrast between the child’s delight and the mom’s anguish was too funny.

“Yeah,” the girl expounded, lisping all the way. “It’s a hole! The dentist has a special magic mirror for my teeth and she looked all over and she said I have a cavity.”

“Wow,” I managed and raised an eyebrow at the mom, who nodded solemnly.

“Next week,” the mother sighed. “I’m not looking forward to it …”

I understood why. This little girl could raise roofs at the mere sight of needles. Just ten days prior the mom had shared with me her mortification at the horrified looks people had given her when she’d emerged with her child from a routine blood draw. “Everyone in that waiting room must have been convinced we were slicing her in pieces,” the mom had vented. “I can’t believe they hadn’t all called Child Protective Services or 911.”

“Laughing gas …” I mouthed.

The mom inhaled and shrugged and nodded all in one. Skeptical and perhaps a little hopeful.

“Not next week,” the child pointed out. “Tonight!”

The mom and I exchanged looks.

“What do you mean, tonight?” the mother asked. “Doc Dee said she’ll see us after lunch next Tuesday.”

“Yeah,” the little girl waved this information away. “But I have a cavity,” she stressed. “So the Tooth Fairy is going to get it first.”

She opened her mouth to give us both a good look before turning to me. “I don’t know why the dentist needed a magic mirror,” she added and her voice rose in puzzlement. “I can see my cavity right away already.”

She held her mouth agape and pointed to a newly lost incisor. “See? It’s right here.”

 

 

For The Daily Post

The Glorious Unfurling

beauty in the weeds AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

Do not stifle

Truth

Or hope.

Hold fast the

Pieces

That were

In fear

Squelched back

Or were suppressed

By those pretending

To be

Righteous.

Let go.

Let be

The glorious unfurling

Of your being.

It is who you have been

Meant

To grow into

Before

And all along.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Trill Along

Starling NYC NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Take your song

Right along

Let the tune

Warble on

Let your soul

Be as strong

As the trill

Of birdsong

All day long

Chirping on.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Due Dominance

piccsy.com Pinterest

Photo: piccsy.com on Pinterest

 

“Dominant does not mean domineering,” she said. “It does not need to mean oppressive or demeaning.”

“A true leader leads with kindness,” she added. “They govern with understanding and resolve, not ego, hate, or petty revenge.”

A cardboard sign was tied to her walker with green bread twists. It read: “I’m old enough to know how this ends.”

The faded purple blue tattoo on her arm was evidence of having lived through what most would deem un-survivable. She had survived, and came out the other side not only alive but vibrating with a kind of solid empathy that no one would mistake for weakness.

She did not raise her voice but nonetheless it carried. Or maybe it was her energy that created a little centripetal force-field around her. People stopped by. Leaned in to hear more. Some took her photo.

“Authority needs to be bestowed, not taken,” she noted, and I couldn’t help but think that someone ought to hire this little old lady, this walking wisdom slogan-machine.

The sun washed over the sea of people, signs, distant chants, knit hats. A puppy barked and a child’s exuberant peal of laughter carried on the wind.

“Hear that?” The old woman smiled. “That’s power.”

“And that,” she waved a wrinkled hand to encircle the swelling crowds. “That’s due dominance.”

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Tardy Times

slow low tide

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Sometimes I know

The pace of

Tardy,

Slow but

Stubborn,

Will outwit

My best laid plans.

Goalposts redrawn.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Blink Of An Eye

Cuba12 InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

In the blink of an eye

Life shifts gears

Age speeds by

To leave tears

On a cheek

As in one glancing streak

Years flash

Full

Of mystique.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post