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.

Motherhood
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
mistakes.

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.

____________

Circadian

Rising is:
the knowledge
that I have
everything
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
faith
taking us
gently into each new day.

 

 

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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.