 Rainn wrote this for our Retirement Celebration in response to the prompt "broken glass." Thank you for this powerful piece, Rainn, and for all the years of support! Green Window
by R. Sciryl Pieces you’ve been broken in, still you remain strong I revere your strength, sharp edges and rare tone You are- Much deeper than the superficial You are- Still resilient despite any issue I admire you- whether amber, green or clear What did you once contain? Essential oil? Water? Beer? Or did you use to be a window A Green Window A Green Window Or did you use to be a window A Green Window A Green Window If you were, who all did you allow to see through? Right (Write) into your psyche, your soul? Perhaps only a few? I’ll bet you use to be a window A Green Window A Green Window So I, express appreciation for your form …… Your worth Your essence, your charm …. Your warmth Though now broken, as paper when torn You may never be the same, since breakin’ apart How can I relate? I am human and have a heart When that broke, I imagined a similar pattern ……. A shattering of sorts ….. Essentially- a divorce Of one piece from the other, a separation What used to be whole- now divided, in devastation Because we/re used to being windows
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 Some writings tap into unconscious knowing. Such is the case with this one. It is a potent lesson that teaches us to listen to dreams, hunches, and our connection with the universe. I am ever grateful for the opportunity to write and share the pen's messages. (The following beautiful piece was written in a Green Windows workshop on June 3, 2020. Thank you, Karen! )  Now
by Karen Gordon We walk down the path. There are broken bottles everywhere. You point out one spot to me that is clear, A little stream gurgles by and To our surprise There are live frogs in it. Thru the stark silence, one croak then just a few more. Overhead a crow caws. This is where the car wash used to be. Over there are The empty bones of the mall. I guess I really thought we would be somewhere else by now. Yet the air has cleared and we can now go outside without masks. The sky is a harsh blue Beating overhead with brutal passion. It’s five years further I can still walk a good long ways. It’s sad to say that I do this alone. You wait in the old house and will greet me as best you can when I return. We didn’t know it would be like this. Yet it is so.  Jenna wrote this beautiful piece in a Green Windows workshop on May 27, 2020, in response to the prompt "I write these words." Thank you, Jenna!  I Write These Words
by Jenna Frisch Dive in. Mess the page up with ink. i write these words to show myself to myself, first to tease out the ideas / images / impulses & fixations that stir & sometimes settle in the folds of my soft tissue, sometimes i write to take a chisel to long held beliefs & feelings calcified to bone i write the way i run one word, one step at a time one ear to the body, one open to the world with curiosity, care and abandon i write i run to lose myself find myself lose myself find myself a seamless & sometimes labored act called l o v e self-care respiration i write i run to get clear to lose myself on streets i know on streets i don’t know on blank pages i empty on filled pages i find myself some version of myself i know or used to know i find myself in the swiftness of the pen & on hills i’ve run a hundred times noticing new cracks, noticing old cracks i leave pieces of myself on concrete & centerfolds i write i run to express elucidate eclipse unfurl expose shades of experience the Walpiri people don’t have a word for color, he said they see textures & shades have felt sense like fresh rose petal blossoms feet that grip & a mind that floats sometimes tugging insides in two directions sometimes meeting gently in the middle like a hot sun laying itself down at the edge of the pacific across clear skies fire meets water & the Earth is held in darkness & in light setting sun reflecting heat off water & there is respite from cool before the air gets cold again |
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