Archive for the Susie Sweetland Garay Category

Susie Sweetland Garay

Posted in Susie Sweetland Garay on January 30, 2015 by Scot


Truth and a Lie

There is a song
at the base of my skull
pulling me along.

A drum beat in my temple
reminding me of sacred things

each daily holy ritual –
worship through repetition
and forgiving.

cuts so deep.

When I was young
I couldn’t see
that parents were
just people.

I never saw the struggle, the questions,
until I became one.

They don’t share with us their
weaknesses and mistakes
until they become our
weaknesses and

They do not see it as a lie
(maybe truth is only truth
for a little while).

I may do it differently
I think as the music pulls
me along and my baby girl
begins to wake up from
her nap.


Thursday morning

Stuck inside on the only nice day in week
longingly looking at the window
feeling both trapped and glad
at the same time.
Barley understanding myself
I am happy there is no one here
to try to explain it too.
I don’t know what I want.
I want both.
I want neither.
I want it all.
Whatever that means.
I don’t even know what it means.
So I go back to looking out the window.



Rising is:
the knowledge
that I have
I need;
missing an old friend,
so odd that it has been
three years;
the joy
and monotony
of each day;
anxiety at knowing I can’t do it all,
that I will always disappoint someone;
the cold crisp air outside;
learning to structure an
unstructured day;
too much want,
and a desire to release;
learning that not enjoying
does not make me a failure;
that I can be disappointed by those I love
and still love them;
Rising is
taking us
gently into each new day.



National Guacamole Day by Susie Sweetland Garay

Posted in Susie Sweetland Garay with tags on August 3, 2013 by Scot

Its early on a Monday morning. Cold and quiet.
I coworker assembles a lab in the other room.
Your lab.
She puts the pieces together. I hear glass clinking
and it makes me miss you. How odd for her
to be touching your things. I watch her
and think to myself “you’re doing it wrong.”

Farming has made me see the world in cycles.
Clear and pronounced and complicated.
I feel torn, wanting rain for myself, but thinking – not yet.
Not just yet, the grapes aren’t ready.
Just a week more of sun. Maybe two.

Yesterday was National Guacamole Day.
A year ago on that day I told you
about the occasion, excited by my discovery.
You said, “We’d better go get some guac then.”
And we did.