I saw my heart on the road to Logan,
Spinning in a lopsided circle in whichever direction the wind blew,
Signaling out across the landscapes of my soul…the plains, the deserts, the blue-green mountains…in a life more sky than earth.
I saw my heart careening, my insides skipping behind, towards fences mending,
With ravens, mouths open, on wires barbed…
And white butterflies tumbling back into the mirage,
Past dark men on horses, tails swishing away.
I saw my heart as the sun tipped the Caprock, on the road to Logan…the long road home.
writing
Approaching Windmills
Flashing by my window in the desert,
Coming down first before the land rises up I see,
A dead, gnarled cottonwood bent over itself,
A white parched river bed, dreaming of water ghosts,
White cloud towers making the coming blades glisten,
Blue-black mesas dotted with sage,
And that uneven road behind me, curling back on itself,
As if going back for something it forgot.
Welcome Extraordinaire
Some have suggested that I write down my thoughts about the everyday things that I experience being a wife, a mother, a worker among workers, a daughter and sister. It’s taken me about 12 years to get the gumption to do it. There’s nothing extraordinary about me, my life or my family. I’m trudging the same road as all other women out there.
What turns the ordinary to sublime is when I connect with other women in my life, and we’re able to share our experience, strength and hope with one another about things like: adoring our husbands one moment, and wanting to kill them with a frying pan and bury their bodies in the backyard the next; loving our babies so much that our hearts hurt and wanting so badly to spend the weekend in a hotel room with nobody calling our names with complete control over the remote; knowing that marriage is like a marathon, and you have to pace yourself to stay in the race, but still wishing that someone could see you through brand new eyes just one more time.
My life is interwoven with sorrow and light, strands of fear and palpitations of joy, envy, stardust and taxes. I’m ordinary in every way, but I breathe moments of extraordinaire…and that’s what our lives are made of.
Ordinary Woman Extraordinaire 