Cockroach and Ranunculus

A Poem Instead of an Essay This Week

I hope you pardon the slight change in programming and that you had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Xo, A.L. Mills

Wooden skis form Xs around the wooden beam by the fireplace

Thanksgiving week hangs in the air

A lone writer sits in the corner wishing the words would flow

It’s not the stereotypical writer’s block

The words she wants to write aren’t the words she feels to pen

She’s been writing a lovely essay about the wild feminine

But today she wants to share her grief and gratitude

Perhaps only now seeing a new relationship between the two

So much of life is perspective and happiness is mostly a mindset

While comparison lurks behind every thought looking for an crack

Is joy inevitable? Is there anything we can do to foster it?

I think it’s begging to be made a permanent resident

The sad truths and realities, along with perceived perspectives

Are in fact hollow and bring death, they don’t merely take up space

They’re undercover agents trying to rob your joy

They are akin to the cockroach and the ranunculus

Two Thanksgivings ago I walked with a cane

With no conception of how long the recovery journey would be

Yesterday I did a CrossFit class with only some alterations

I’m not bed-ridden today

My sister-in-law was still alive two Thanksgivings ago

She wished her health allowed her to be in Nashville to care for me

I didn’t know it would be her last Thanksgiving on earth

She’s not in pain any longer

Two years ago I got a promotion with a fancy title

Today I’m fully unemployed

I have an interview next week

Today I write a poem