What She Knows

Spontaneous poem written by starting with last line in a poem called “The Weaver” by Pat Schneider.

What she knows she knows

There is life after a death

There can be good days

Happiness

It has to come from within

No one can do it for her

There is no hole or gap

Just light shining consistently

Her name means light

And she lets it show the way

On how to weave a new life

The one she always knew she’d live.

That one wild and precious life.

For Example, Friday

I’d been wanting to write a poem all week, and finally got inspired by David Kirby’s poem “The Rhetorical Device Known as What-Aboutery.”

…it takes a while to get from where

you are to where you want to be, especially 

if you don’t know where you’re going in the first place,

which you shouldn’t, as the scientists

 say, if you know what you’re doing, it isn’t research.

Discovery

What if I was to truly open my mind 

to what could be discovered each day 

without judgment on my part?

For example, Friday.

A routine eye appointment for Jim turned long

Hemorrhaging in the eye

Causing an afternoon at another doctor

Trying to get it under control

And I stayed focused on what mattered.

I discovered I could 

read my book 

relax into just being

I had been contemplating what fun is in my life.

So I decided picking up a book 

I’ve meant to read for years would be fun 

and making dinner — a joy.

I’m discovering a moment holds a lot of mini-happiness.

In a book I just finished there was a great line:

Happiness is circulatory.

Someone else said fun leads to happiness, not the other way around.

Fun being playfulness + communication + flow.

So there is the recipe.

Will I ever say the day Jim’s eye 

hemorrhaged was a FUN day?

No, probably not.

Will I say I flowed through it 

and discovered a calm around it?

Yes, that I can say.

It’s my own research into the 

art of being.