Category: Vignettes

🖌️Art Begets Art🖌️ Piece #2

amyofhearthridge7 Comments
Snapshot sent from my friend Sam

~drift~

I took the stack of ‘not for sale’ notes

from the kitchen counter

I float freely, clutching them

wondering which of all

my memories

will get packed away

or $1.99’d at the yard sale

who puts monetary value

on mothering moments

tears, grubby-fingered gifts?

The sandy Texas whelk shell,

the lone star-shaped button

from that one Marshall’s skirt,

will these be for sale?

They haven’t even touched the shelves

of my tattered friends, dog-earred, wrinkled.

Is it all reduced to trash to be

talked and hashed over?

The Post-Its crumple a bit

in my filmy grip.

I peek out the sun-bleached,

red gingham curtains and see

a crowd of crow-clad mourners,

truly all that’s left behind that’s-truly true,

all that love huddled on that hill.

All the dregs, threads, life

will be packed up, garbage-bagged.

The Post-Its flutter to the floor.

I’m back in my pine box.

Songs being sung.

Soul not sold, bought with blood,

drifting off.

Memories Post-It-seared on Souls.

Not for sale, ever.

~A.M. Pine

{If you are interested, read here for this series Piece #1 and origin story.}

||on hot water therapy ||

amyofhearthridge6 Comments

||filtered light through shower curtain, drips trickle off silver-y, soap-scummed faucet…Irish Spring Soap scent, sniffing out a 32 year old memory of Grandma Fritz, her chunky, pink bubble-shaped bubble bath bottle, her chain plug, while all the dregs drain down…salty tears mixed with mineral-laden water in need of salt to soften. Hey, I’m a cheap water softener, if only my tears could be useful in that way…stretch marks, stretched-taut strength, silent screams through the warm rain. Hair plastered close, veil washed over my racing thoughts…sore nose bridge, loose glasses, may I be able to see pass this all? Purple, frayed, musty towel waiting, dirty feet bottoms planted in the swirling soap suds. Rubber duckies, colorful boat, army man with one leg, Dove Daily Moisture Shampoo, please bring me an olive branch of peace and hope. Hot water sears eczema, coconut oil slathering ahead, healing really does hurt. Worry-disease drained away for the moment, deep breath, steam in, selfishness and stress out. Water pounding massage, life paused in curtained, watery world away from the “on-ness” of it all, soul’s dirty roots deeply watered for another day. Size 12, barely buttoned, unzipped heart, out of chest, maybe hot water therapy will help this heavy-heart, too? Scrub this heart anew.

|| on clouds ||

amyofhearthridge9 Comments

|| endless clouds extend to the horizon line. slate grey, white tuffed, take-deep-breath marshmallows , chewy goodness. softness, a gentling, sunsplit glints of gold, the dresden of heaven’s hutch. clouds come down, bringing middle earth to midwest. pillows, puffs, earth and sky gooey s’more center, coolness, and shade. buckets of liquid love dipped and poured over earth’s open and waiting hands. what would i be without clouds? i’m not talking about the science behind the loss of clouds, i’m talking about fluff-on-the-wind deep soul loss. the loss of the wisp and whisper drawing our hearts and our eyes upward. clouds crowd the crevices of my heart and i want to be forever enveloped in a squishy embrace. bright white, somber grey, i take this popcorn of the sky, salted, anyway. a true friend to sail away on, summer shape finding, a friend to count on hovering close by. a field of fluff for soul and spirit encouragement harvesting. a bit of white lace for earth’s blue and green dress. freshness, light, love…clouds. ||