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Empty House

September 13th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

Empty house.Abandoned insane asylum (building 136) medical/surgical
With your doors wide open
To suggestion.
And your windows closed
Against the winds
Of change.
Here. Let me crack open
One.
Just so you can breathe.
And heave a sigh
Of such relief,
Enough to stir a curtain
(were there a curtain)
To signal any passerby
There might be someone
Home.

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The Thing With Feathers

September 7th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

As summer draws to a close in anticipation of a new season, we pause and reflect on its offerings; tomatoes on the vine, string beans the thing with feathersby the bushel full, glorious weather, and strangely illness huddling family and friends closer together. Something to be gleaned even from this. Cultivating hope when there was seemingly none, we mustered the courage to dig into dirt, scraping fingernails against rock to plant that tiny seed. The germination of new beginnings, the blush of leaves clinging to the tree that supports it. And with this we greet the arrival of fall with its earthy scent prodding one to breathe deep and let go a sigh of relief however small.
The process of healing begins. We seek the solace in the familiar, the simple day to day activities pulling us back into routine. Grateful for that slouchy old chair at the end of the day, we hold onto what comforts, no matter how battered. Proven kindred spirits.
None of this is possible without hope. It begins with an act of kindness, a word of reassurance from a stranger who recognizes himself in your own discomfort, who knows this will pass and graciously tells you so. One day you’ll have that same opportunity to pass the torch to someone else. And so on and so on and so on. And kindness envelopes the whole like a warm blanket. Human beings acting like human beings and not what you read in the news jarring the senses. In the words of my favorite poet:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And though the battle rages and the road is a long and arduous one, may you, my friend, never be without that glimmer of hope. Happy new beginnings, again and again.

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Paper Planes

September 7th, 2014 by Magdalena Tabor

Fold here, there.paper plane
Double crease for weight
And balance.
What I remember
From blissful youth
And flights of fancy,
And untold destinations,
Could not prepare me
For the nosedive
Into that puddle
Of persistence,
Drenching the dream
Of simple aeronautics.

But I remain
The engineer after all,
The commander on board,
To begin once more…
Fold here.
The weight of words
On lined paper
To stabilize the flight.

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