Sunday, August 9, 2009

Unexpected Writing

I don't normally think of myself as a writer of poems. Yesterday I was fortunate to again attend an all-day writing marathon with Judy Reeves at San Diego Writers, Ink,, of which she is founder and Director. Because of Judy, and the synergy she creates with her being, I wrote a poem:

It means passion for life, despite aging and pain.
It is the number sixty-five and looming MediCare.
It is like the horizon in Alaska in the dead of winter, a delicate glow illuminating from below.
It is knowing I was pregnant in that Alaskan wilderness, conceiving in the heart of winter like the caribou.
It is the memory of David
Who taught me adventure and the unexpected
When he became my daughter's father in that arctic wilderness.
My name is Joy.
It means love endures, beyond divorce, beyond re-marriages, like a light glowing from beneath the horizon.

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