We are continuing in this issue our ReCollection section, looking back through The BeZine past issues and blog posts in this, our tenth year. This poem comes from The BeZine Volume 1 Issue 5, on March 15, 2015. Our Founding Editor, Jamie Dedes, z”l, wrote this poem in 2008. She took the accompanying photograph in 2005.
Call Out for the Sacred Dream
Photograph by Jamie Dedes, z”l
Writing in a far and broken country, my pen knows its kinship with the dark forest, asks direction of its trees, celebrates a quiet amity over the din of plastic medicine vials, the 40-foot
serpentine specter of a cannula, the hiss and sigh of an oxygen compressor amid layered silences. We are named on a long list of regional poets. The region is the sickroom where the palm and
birch in the courtyard know their meaning and place. Lend your soul's ear. The trees will speak and tell you that we are found. We are here, not lost in those vials but found in the hallowed
company of this dusty Earth on a shared vision quest. Call it illness. Call it artful ... Strike up the hill. Cry out for the Sacred Dream, for the purpose of your life and its confusions. A comforting Infinity breaks through
fierce grievings embraced. The great dream comes to you. The trees come to you. They speak in God's tongue, which is - after all - your whispering heart . . . Life gives, bequeathing the key to its wide and wild Essence. Unlock the door. Listen ... listen! The voice is lyrical and trails records in blue ink.
“There is on this earth, what makes life worth living,” Mahmood Darwish (1941-2008), Palestinian poet —an observation as true for people who are occupied by illness or other distress as it is for a people who are living in occupied territory.
We are continuing in this issue our ReCollection section, looking back through The BeZine past issues and blog posts in this, our tenth year. This poem comes from The BeZine Volume 3 Issue 2, on November 15, 2016, which had the theme of “Loving Kindness.” Our Founding Editor, Jamie Dedes, z”l, wrote this poem in 2013 and was very fond of it. It seems a fitting closing to both this month’s ReCollection section and the June 2023 issue (Volume 10 Issue 2).
Japanese tea house: reflects the wabi sabi aesthetic, Kenroku-en Garden From Pictures section of OpenHistory under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license
Wabi Sabi
if only i knew
what the artist knows
about the great perfection
in imperfection
i would sip grace slowly
at the ragged edges of the creek
kiss the pitted
face of the moon
befriend the sea
though it can be a danger
embrace the thunder of a waterfall
as if its strains were a symphony
prostrate myself atop the rank dregs on the forest floor,
worshiping them as compost for fertile seeds
and the breeding ground for a million small lives
if i knew what the artist knows,
then i wouldn’t be afraid to die,
to leave everyone
i would be sure that some part of me
would remain present
and that one day you would join me
as the wind howling on its journey
or the bright moment of a flowering desert
if i knew what the artist knows,
i would surely respond soul and body
to the echo of the Ineffable in rough earthy things
i would not fear decay or work left undone
i would travel like the river through its rugged, irregular channels
comfortable with this life; imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete
United we stand, divided we fall.
Together we rise. Alone, we hear only the call
from sirens of an alternative kind of destiny,
where attention seeking soldiers of fortune,
their collegial architects and faceless shadows
construct a new order, birthing the unfamiliar,
wrapped in a matrix of the convincingly familiar.
A weeping iconic mater outwardly gestures
her loving hands and offers lessons learned
by a handmaid and her tale of forced labour
and social media generating artificial facts
of incontestable statistical intelligence, promising
to remove uncertainty from uncertain lives
to offer security in a profoundly insecure way.
Yet the still small voices of independent thought,
unafraid of consequence, reality, insecurity or pain,
continue to echo the inspiration of she, who reasons
encouragingly and compassionately against
the harbingers of our future decline, against
the pornography of privilege and wealth,
against the deniers of equitable, sustainable life.
These voices will endure, like those refreshing waters
of a spring that flows from deep inside humanity.
Underneath the radar of the darker web of lies,
they carve in stone the undeniable truth of history.
Note from 2020:Jamie Dedes, founder and editor in chief of the BeZine, formerly ‘Into The Bardo’, for over ten years, has stepped down from the roll because of failing health and, in her words, feeling too exhausted from the effort required to maintain the project. Instead she has characteristically shown her faith in the team she has built up, encouraged, nurtured and, above all, imbued with her own enthusiasm for the BeZine’s mission of promoting Peace, Sustainability and Social Justice, through the medium of the written word and all-coming art forms. She invited me to get involved in 2012, it seems like an age ago! I have never regretted a moment and further, I often wonder where my motivation would have come from, to write and achieve more than I would have given myself credit to achieve. This is my humble attempt to show my appreciation for her influence on me, alongside other stalwarts like Michael Dickel, who has agreed to take the tiller as Editor in Chief, and the other ten or so members of the core team, who have kept the faith. Not to mention countless guest contributors, all of whom have entered the spirit of a very, very worthy cause. This is as much a tribute to you as it is to Jamie. I salute you all.
she’s present
returned to bite through the umbilical of tradition,
to flick her tongue
and cut loose the animus of our parents,
like a panther she roams the earth, she is Eve wild in the night,
freeing minds from hard shells
and hearts from the confines of their cages,
she's entwined in the woodlands of our psyches
and offers her silken locks to the sacred forests of our souls—
naked but for her righteousness,
she stands in primal light,
in the untrammeled river of dreams
the yin to balance yang
the cup of peace to uncross the swords of war—
through the eons she's been waiting for her time
her quiet numinosity hiding in the phenomenal world,
in the cyclical renewal of mother earth,
whispering to us as the silver intuition of grandmother moon
she, omen of peace birthed out of the dark,
she is the revisioning of the Divine,
non-judgement forms her backbone
her love is unconditional
even as tradition tries to block her return,
her power leaps from the cleavage of time
About this illustration—this lovely watercolor painting by Gretchen Del Rio, with its girl-tree, panther, and other spirit animals seemed the perfect illustration for my poem on the spiritual return of the feminine. The real back-story on the painting is just as interesting. Gretchen says, “I painted this for a 14 year old Navajo girl. It is for her protection and her power. She sees auras and is very disturbed by this. She is just amazing. Beauty beyond any words. You can see into the soul of the universe when you look at her eyes. She has no idea. I loved her the moment I saw her. My blessings for her well being are woven into the art.” Such a charming piece. I posted it full-size so that everyone can enjoy the detail. Bravo, Gretchen, and thank you. —J.D.
…was a Lebanese-American poet and freelance writer. She was the founder and curator of The Poet by Day, info hub for poets and writers, and the founder of The Bardo Group, publishers of The BeZine, of which she was the founding editor and later a co-managing editor with Michael Dickel. Jamie was the Poet Laureate of Womawords Press 2020 and U.S associate to that press, as well.
Before the plague, I was a string saver.
Whole drawers of different lengths
and weights; twine, raffia nylon,
cotton. Today, a magazine came
wrapped in brown paper and twisted
thread of yellow and white. It was cross
style, wrapped around the length
and then, with an x, around the width,
knotted on the front with a bow.
The knot wouldn’t give. My fingers
too blunt, and teeth, well, you know,
be careful what you bite. I thought it might
slip through itself, like that rabbit coming back
out of its hole, but it snapped, one small
piece, saved from the rest. Time
will come when open things need to be closed,
a bag, a box, this life.
We huddle around the table
like early Christians in caves.
The sacrament, the Word,
before which all was chaos.
When we leave, we carry light
no matter the time of day
to shatter the shadows cast
by monolithic ways upon us.
Alone, in our homes, rooms,
chairs, we kindle new fire
from old ideas. Our lines—
our muses—singe our fears.
Fierce Wind
for George Floyd
George, the air today is charged with light.
I breathe and hear your words seeking breath.
Because I can walk, can breathe, I push
uphill the hard way, steep and close
with rocks, tight as my throat, closed and angry
with words I can’t find the voice to say.
Instead I speak your name to silent stone
older than law or hate. I say your name
to the fierce living wind, sing your name
like birdsong in waving grass, give
your name to the endless sky that holds
this weeping world spinning in black,
star filled space.
It is a sad day, that I find myself writing about the death of a friend, a mentor, an inspiration to me for the past eight years, but I remind myself daily that it is not my loss alone. She is all of those things and more to everyone, who came into contact with her world of the creative arts, did anything with her, was fed the nutrients of her encouragement and constructive comment, and produced creative work for her publications. She was a magnet for creative people, but more so for those who were, in some way or other, engaged in this great human need to rid the World of the ravages of greed and self interest and fill it with a will actively to seek processes that foster peace, sustainability and social justice. There was another side to her character, perhaps one of the most attractive of her traits … she would often tell people “you are valued” and she might critique, but never judge, even if you had fallen short on a commitment. It was always enough to impart a warm glow of being a part of something important and, above all, a genuine feeling of love.
Photo Copyright G Jamie Dedes All rights reserved
I only knew her for no more than eight years, but in that time I had many exchanges with her, both publicly and privately, centred around her seminal on line presence in the form of her inspired publications and her writings. She has been a force for good in my life as well as in many other lives and I feel now more than ever a huge sense of privilege and gratitude for her invitation all those years ago to be a member of her core team. I was there at it’s transition from her original concept, ‘Into The Bardo’, which became The Bardo Group Beguines and eventually The BeZine.
I do very few references and testimonials, but when, some years ago Jamie asked me to write a testimonial for her blog ‘The Poet By Day’ (that used to be called ‘Musing by Moonlight’, that echoed the days when she would have to go out to work at a day job, to earn her corn). In response I wrote the only tribute I could imagine …
“ There are blogs and there are blogs. There is writing; there is poetry; there is art; there is human endeavour and there is ‘The Poet by Day’. Rarely, if ever, have I come across a web log like this, of such towering integrity. Seldom have I encountered such a willingness to subjugate self for the benefit not only of the art of the written word, but also for the benefit of poets and writers everywhere. Here be a deep well of inspiration.
This is enhanced, in a major way, by her own invention, a blog called ‘Into The Bardo’ (which became a collaborative blog, ‘The Bardo Group Beguines’ and publishes ‘The BeZine’). This represents the noblest of goals, an aspiration to connect all life on Earth spiritually; to unite the World in one grand scheme, which, if it achieves little else, fills us with hope.”
We at the BeZine have been overwhelmed with messages of appreciation and love for Jamie as well as submissions for inclusion in this issue that glow with evidence for her incredible influence on creative writers and artists around the World.
I would also like to take this opportunity, on behalf of the BeZine, to thank Jamie’s son, Richard and daughter-in-law, Karen for being so generous with their grieving time to hold an on line service that a handful of us BeZiners were able to attend, and, with Jamie’s cousin and lifelong friend, Daniel Sormani, for sharing so much of her life story with us. It was very special. Both Richard and Karen have continued to be very supportive of and communicative about the future mission of the BeZine, for which we are eternally grateful.
Please stop all the clocks, shut the doors, unplug your phones, switch off the TV, remove all other distractions and enjoy what follows, a selection from a veritable cornucopia of tributes to the uniquely inspirational G Jamie Dedes.
In early November, we lost one of the dearest members of The BeZine Team, our founder and editor, G. Jamie Dedes. Jamie was a huge inspiration to all of us; always a soft, gentle and encouraging voice who gave us the courage to write and the faith to succeed.
One of my favorite poems of hers is this one, where she speaks to us about spirit’s immortality. Despite the tears, I know she’s close. I can hear her enthusiastic, “Poem on!” and I know she will always be with us.
One Lifetime After Another
one day, you’ll see, i’ll come back to hobnob with ravens, to fly with the crows at the moment of apple blossoms and the scent of magnolia ~ look for me winging among the white geese in their practical formation, migrating to be here, to keep house for you by the river …
i’ll be home in time for the bees in their slow heavy search for nectar, when the grass unfurls, nib tipped ~ you’ll sense me as soft and fresh as a rose, as gentle as a breeze of butterfly wings . . .
i’ll return to honor daisies in the depths of innocence, i’ll be the raindrops rising dew-like on your brow ~ you’ll see me sliding happy down a comely jacaranda, as feral as the wind circling the crape myrtle, you’ll find me waiting, a small gray dove in the dovecot, loving you, one lifetime after another.
mountains rise round, pregnant belly of earth and the aspens dance with paper-barked madrone screeching their yellows and reds, brindle and feral like the snaked hairs of Medusa they threaten
looming over me as I lay miles away on a mesa the bones of my ancestors, the heart of my child the pelts of the brown minks my father sewed the vultures circle, ravished by my demise.
I feed on the pinion and ride mountain lions down slopes, into valleys, a wanderer, lost and lost looking eastward, seeking John Chapman he has something to say, or maybe it’s westward
John Muir, my ears are deaf, my eyes hear a song emerging from black bear, a surfeit of salmon burning sage, clearing America, the wild beasts are defanged and declawed and I am hawk-eyed
Selected by Core Team contributor Corina Ravenscraft
I cannot find the words of this, one of my favourite of Jamie’s poems. It was originally posted on on her old web site ‘Musing by Moonlight’. I did however record it and with her permission, posted it on Soundcloud. I loved this poem because it speaks to me not only of all the things that Jamie enjoyed, but her ability to deal with her limitations and replace them with her acute powers of observation …
Poem copyright Jamie Dedes. Performance by Poetjanstie.
“We shall meet soon”, I would write in the chat window. ”Yes in heaven” would be the reply. We both knew and understood that we spoke about the impossible but we both also knew that if one is close at heart long distances do not matter. ”So how are we going there?” I wrote, keeping a high level of positivity and carrying on with the sheer level of acceptance of circumstances, and the fine streak of our sense of humor, me in Asia and Dear Jamie Ji in the leading country of the world. We both shared the laughing emoticon and I added a ship, a plane, a helicopter, and a rocket.
Jamie Ji loved sharing stickers. It was her way of showing joy and gratitude and the moments of complete happiness she would be experiencing.
This was our virtual life on line which began in 2018.
A boundless world of creative expression opened for me. Poetry art and learning with profound inspiration encouragement and loving support.
Jamie Ji you changed my life made me write, guided me to move on, appreciated my work, kept me company while all the time you were by yourself, struggling with illness, moving in and out of hospital. Your richness and treasure of personality cannot be described in a page or two. Jamie Ji you will never be forgotten.
You are in heaven. May you be in peace comfort and joy. Aameen.
This originally ran in the September issue. We run it again, in memory of Jamie. —Ed.
United we stand, divided we fall.
Together we rise. Alone, we hear only the call
from sirens of an alternative kind of destiny,
where attention seeking soldiers of fortune,
their collegial architects and faceless shadows
construct a new order, birthing the unfamiliar,
wrapped in a matrix of the convincingly familiar.
A weeping iconic mater outwardly gestures
her loving hands with warnings from a handmaid
and her tale of forced labour and social media
generating artificial facts of incontestable
statistical intelligence, promising to remove
uncertainty from uncertain lives, to offer
security in a profoundly insecure way.
Yet, still small voices of independent thought,
unafraid of consequence, reality, insecurity or pain,
continue to echo the inspiration of she, who reasons
encouragingly and compassionately against
the harbingers of our future decline, against
the pornography of privilege and wealth,
against the deniers of equitable, sustainable life.
These voices endure, like those refreshing waters
of a spring that flows from deep inside humanity.
Underneath the radar of the darker web of lies,
they carve in stone the undeniable truth of history.
At the time I wrote this last August, Jamie Dedes, founder and editor in chief of The BeZine, formerly ‘Into The Bardo’, for over ten years, had already stepped down from the roll because of failing health and, in her words, feeling too exhausted from the effort required to maintain the project. Instead she has characteristically shown her faith in the team she has built up, encouraged, nurtured and, above all, imbued with her own enthusiasm for The BeZine‘s mission of promoting Peace, Sustainability and Social Justice, through the medium of the written word and all-coming art forms.
She invited me to get involved in 2013, it seems like an age ago! She said that she found the ‘About’ page in ‘My Poetry Library‘ was the most most impressive she’d ever seen! Come what may, I have never regretted a moment and further often wonder where my motivation would have come from, to write and achieve more than I would have given myself credit to achieve. This is my humble attempt to show my appreciation for her influence on me, alongside other stalwarts like Michael Dickel, who has agreed to take the tiller as Editor in Chief, and the other ten or so members of the core team, who have kept the faith. Not to mention countless guest contributors, all of whom have entered the spirit of a very, very worthy cause. This is as much a tribute to you as it is to Jamie. I salute you all.
I find it both encouraging and, in a strange way, heart warming to know that I actually ran this poem passed Jamie before publishing it in the September edition, because I didn’t want to embarrass her. She was never keen to promote herself in any way, but she did give it a nod of approval.
J. S. Bach, Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 6 in D Major, BWV 1012: I. Prélude Yo-Yo Ma, Six Evolutions —— Recommended as accompaniment to the poem: Listen to 30 seconds of the music, then read the poem. Let the music guide you. Pause when the words pause. Pause between stanzas. Listen. And at the end, listen to the rest of this amazing cello playing as the words soak into you.
For Jamie
Thunder, wind and rain last night scattered leaves
and small branches along the roads, covering cars
with a blanket of fallen lives. Water that washed
over the four quarters of Jerusalem—down the faces
of The Western Wall, Al Aqsa Mosque, The Church
of the Holy Sepulchre, and into the karst holding these
buildings—today ropes into rivers threading to The Salt Sea.
The currents bubble up in sweet springs along the way.
En Gedi has quenched thirst for thousands of years,
watered dates and olives amid weathered stone.
The sweet water also slips further along,
ending up riding on top of the mineral-laden
Yam HaMelech, springing up again fresh
pure-spirited, greening desert shores.
You taught us that a life, too, could trace
such a path across belief and suffering, sink
into rock-roots, form braids with others, and
emerge as life-giving water in a parched world.
The Western Wall — the exposed section of wall that enclosed The Temple Mount, Jerusalem
Al Aqsa Mosque — one of the holiest Islamic sites, on top of The Temple Mount
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre — a sprawling complex of a cathedral that encompasses sites associated with the crucifixion and burial of Jesus; the management / administration of the complex is divided between several different Christian denominations, the main ones (according to Wikipedia): Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Armenian Apostolic, and to a lesser degree the Coptic Orthodox, Syriac Orthodox and Ethiopian Orthodox
The Salt Sea — a literal translation of ים המלח (Yam HaMelech), the Hebrew name for what in English is called The Dead Sea (see Yam HaMelech)
En Gedi — the name of an oasis area (now a kibbutz and national park) in the cliffs above The Salt Sea, which has supported human habitation for thousands of years and been a stop-over for travelers for longer. Four springs provide water: En Gedi, En David, En Shulamit, and En Arugot
Yam HaMelech — the transliteration of the Hebrew ים המלח, literally, The Salt Sea, the Hebrew name for what in English is called The Dead Sea (see The Salt Sea); though springing from unrelated roots, the Hebrew מלח (melech — salt) and מלך (melach—king / ruler) sound similar; the word מַלְאָך (melakh, meaning messenger and translated as angel in Biblical texts), also sounds similar to מלח (melech — salt), but shares the root of מלך (melach—king / ruler); Yam HaMelech is associated with the land of Sodom, and there is a salt formation called “Lot’s Wife” in the region
At the time I wrote this in August, Jamie Dedes, founder and editor in chief of The BeZine, formerly ‘Into The Bardo’, for over ten years, had already stepped down from the roll because of failing health and, in her words, feeling too exhausted from the effort required to maintain the project. Instead she characteristically showed her faith in the team she built up around her. She encouraged, nurtured and, above all, imbued us with her own enthusiasm for the BeZine‘s mission of promoting Peace, Sustainability and Social Justice, through the medium of the written word and all-coming art forms.
She invited me to get involved in 2013, it seems like an age ago! She said that she found the ‘About’ page in ‘My Poetry Library‘ was the most most impressive she’d ever seen!. Come what may, I have never regretted a moment and further often wonder where my motivation would have come from, to write and achieve more than I would have given myself credit to achieve. This is my humble attempt to show my appreciation for her influence on me, alongside other stalwarts like Michael Dickel, who, as an experienced editor and writer, agreed to take the tiller as Editor in Chief, and the other ten or so members of the core team, who have kept the faith. Not to mention countless guest contributors, all of whom have entered the spirit of a very, very worthy cause. This is as much a tribute to you as it is to Jamie. I salute you all.
I find it both encouraging and, in a strange way, heart warming to know that I actually ran this poem passed Jamie before publishing it in the September edition, because I didn’t want to embarrass her. She was never keen to promote herself in any way, but she did give it a nod of approval.
“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.” Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living
see it moving – Life!
moving through the ache of time
seeking that place
where identity isn’t worn on a sleeve,
where individuals challenge the tribe,
where beauty frees itself from convention,
where the chains of fear dissolve
JAMIE DEDES (The Poet by Day), a Lebanese-American writer and activist, was a columnist, a publicist, and an associate editor to a regional employment publication. She’s worked in social services as an employment counselor, case manager/supervisor, career center manager, and ultimately as a planner in a government agency with duties that included writing position papers, requisitions for proposals, and grant applications.
Jamie founded The Bardo Group Bequines, publisher of The BeZine of which she is founding and managing editor. Our goal is to foster proximity and understanding through our shared love of the arts and humanities and to make – however modest – a contribution toward personal healing and deference for the diverse ways people try to make moral, spiritual and intellectual sense of a world in which illness, violence, despair, loneliness and death are as prevalent as hope, friendship, reason and birth.
“They have the guns, we have the poets. Therefore, we will win.” Howard Zinn
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . these
the quiet afternoons pulsing peace,
Bach on the radio, sustenance simmering
on the stove of my tranquility, the days
chasing night, the nights chasing day,
rhythms caressing my face, love-bites
armouring the leg of my being, heart
beating at one with the sighing Pacific
and only gratitude for the gift of life,
no more scandalized by the news of
death, baptism into heaven, whatever
that means, but the reports center on
conflict, Palestine, Ukraine, Maghreb
easy to foment flash-points for horror,
even easier to forget just how sweet it is
to breathe with the moon and sun and
to grow with trees bending in the storms,
obeisance to the seas and sky and living on the edge of eternity, time to
give it up, to give-up strife and anger for Lent,
to never pick them up again, to be moved only
by the gentle breeze of butterfly wings,
color and transport for our feasting hearts
JAMIE DEDES (The Poet by Day), a Lebanese-American writer and activist, was a columnist, a publicist, and an associate editor to a regional employment publication. She’s worked in social services as an employment counselor, case manager/supervisor, career center manager, and ultimately as a planner in a government agency with duties that included writing position papers, requisitions for proposals, and grant applications.
Jamie founded The Bardo Group Bequines, publisher of The BeZine of which she is founding and managing editor. Our goal is to foster proximity and understanding through our shared love of the arts and humanities and to make – however modest – a contribution toward personal healing and deference for the diverse ways people try to make moral, spiritual and intellectual sense of a world in which illness, violence, despair, loneliness and death are as prevalent as hope, friendship, reason and birth.
The first of George Frederic Watts’ paintings of “Hope” / Public Domain Illustration
“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.” Augustine of Hippo
At a café, a peace reading ~
the reverent and irreverent
We delivered our poems as prayer
as though every Utopian dream of ours had the
fragrance of sanctity, the well-chiseled
face of true North…
A battalion on the march, we poet-healers,
laying our mystic grace like the psalmist’s
table before enemies
We are sure . . . positive . . .
while we hike the mountain of our despair,
we sense the true depths of human Hope along
the wormholes in the spacetime of our convictions
JAMIE DEDES (The Poet by Day), a Lebanese-American writer and activist, was a columnist, a publicist, and an associate editor to a regional employment publication. She’s worked in social services as an employment counselor, case manager/supervisor, career center manager, and ultimately as a planner in a government agency with duties that included writing position papers, requisitions for proposals, and grant applications.
Jamie founded The Bardo Group Bequines, publisher of The BeZine of which she is founding and managing editor. Our goal is to foster proximity and understanding through our shared love of the arts and humanities and to make – however modest – a contribution toward personal healing and deference for the diverse ways people try to make moral, spiritual and intellectual sense of a world in which illness, violence, despair, loneliness and death are as prevalent as hope, friendship, reason and birth.
“When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.” Tecumseh
Night makes way for morning
The clouds tumbling in like
Cotton bolls blown across a
Field of promise, sun ablaze
Tinged with crimson and saffron
Grooving to the rattle and the click
And caw of our city corvids, and
Hear too the blue jay’s whispered
Song, the mourning dove’s coo
In my kitchen, five stories up, is a
Breakfast reminiscent of my father
Broiled trout, roasted potatoes, and I
Pull cartilage from the fish, evocative
Of a trachea, and salt the potatoes
To the humming of O2 concentrators
I drag on a nasal cannula, life support
In this, my Valley of the Shadow of Death
JAMIE DEDES is a former columnist, publicist and the associate editor to a regional employment publication. Currently she is a homebound freelance writer, poet, content editor, and blogger. Jamie manages The BeZineand its associated activities and The Poet by Dayjamiededes.com, an info hub for writers meant to encourage good but lesser-known poets, women and minority poets, outsider artists, and artists just finding their voices in maturity. The Poet by Day is dedicated to supporting freedom of artistic expression and human rights and encourages activist poetry. Jamie’s work is featured widely in print and digital publications. Her primary professional affiliation is Second Light Network of Women Poets.
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