For Us

She understood this love;
as natural as a heartbeat
With every breath, another
awaits to give new life,
awakening to our
journey; a foundation
created in complete
surrender to our every
flaw, fracture, misstep;
still perfectly bound
in a white light of
boundless perfection

She understood that even in
silence there is a symphony
of heart sounds made only
for them,
by them,
through them
Together they are natural,
simple, yet simultaneously
complex; for they have been
bound for a thousand years,
alive in each single moment

She understood this love
to be infinite and pure in
its inception and conception
There be never a moment
without gratitude for the
knowing of it; never to leave
Her heart, her soul, her mind.

Through every year,
they bless each other
for the sanctity of it.
Through every year
they have been made
further whole by it.

© Brenda-Lee Ranta 2019

In Memorium

I’ve procrastinated this year. The winter clothes have been plunged among my summer garb; the forgotten, never worn garments, still hanging with tags for an event that never occurred and the ‘what was I thinking’ dress. There are also the hopeful jeans that still don’t fit, the too young tops, too cute to part with.

There is a blouse I wore when I spent a day teary and blowing my nose, a bathing suit cover up that never did see a beach, my favorite cut-off shorts that I wear at home, myriad leggings that have become
my crazy everyday uniform.

Then there are beautiful sweater jackets hanging, worn maybe twice before I retired; an eternal epitaph to my business wear, along with my collection of skirts in varying shades of greys and black; for all
occasions; except for the ones I don’t have anymore. Finally, there are the panic clothes. The pieces I bought to make myself feel better on a hard day, in colours that make my skin look old, yellow and tired.

However, I still fondly reach for one of my well-worn black cardigans; my second- skin friends that I always find on the backs of chairs all over my home, as a salute to my hot flashes that never really stopped coming.

My wardrobe hangs as a museum of my life; that life and following that life; and my present life. It is hard to sort through my clothes this year. I’ll do it when I’m ready to say goodbye to a chronology of my life.

© Brenda-Lee Ranta 2019