July 6 Daily Poem

Silence allows words to be felt
Rather than heard
Those gathering, walking
Up the green grass covered
Hill felt her words, her voice
Her whispered shouts of

“If I should die think only this of me..
she loved well
her children adored her
she could turn a word a phrase a melody
she was vulnerable, fragile and strong as an ox
she was amusing without even meaning to be

“If I should die think only this of me
she cried as hard as she laughed
she fought injustice
she was an advocate
an activist
she loved this one precious life she was given
she didn’t hesitate
she was bold
she was breathtaking
she didn’t hide or cower, wait for someone else or say
“That’s not my job”

“If I should die think only this of me
she giggled
she hoped
she prayed
she wrote
she wrote
she wrote
she loved to listen to the stories the wind told
she stored a lot of friends in heaven
she laughed at herself
she was generous

“If I should die think only this of me
she was a word swashbuckler
she was a word gourmet
she was a word prima ballerina
she was a word guru
she was a word priestess
she was a word fuss budget
she was a word clown
she was a word sentry
she was a word shepherd
she was a word guide

“If I should die think only this of me
she loved saying yes
she loved Katherine
she loved Emma
she loved Samuel
She dreamed, a lot.
She wished, a lot.
She painted.
She collaged.
She was authentic.

“If I should die think only this of me
She had high expectations and no expectations all at the same time.
She was love incarnate.
She loved to smile.
She loved sharing smiles.
She loved hugs.
She gave a lot of herself in each hug.
She was passionate about resting.

“If I should die think only this of me
She was nuts about chocolate and pesto and coffee in the morning.
She longed for solitude and quiet.
She loved the unstructured and the structured.
She was a leader.
She was a feminist.
She was a light.

“If I should die think only this of me
She sold hope, everyday.
She looked at things, carefully.
She looked at things, mindfully.
She loved making discoveries.
She loved being a Mommy.
She loves.
She is.
She knows.
Silence allows words to be felt

See more progress on: write a (sloppy, half-formed if need be) poem every day (or so) during July 2010