Copyright 2020 by James C Horner

An Anxious eye I never throws

Behint my lug, or by my nose,

I jouk beneath Misfortune’s blows

As well’s I may.

Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose,

I rhyme away.

Robert Burns, “To J. S.”

You’re not here

not by my side

protect yourself

Charlotte

My cleaning chores

are busy time

filling empty hours

in my empty dwelling

emptied of you

Texting is not the same

Phoning is not the same

Zoom is not the same

I cannot hold you

from afar

It is raining

all this murky weekend

 

Practice to relieve tension: Six Healing Sounds

Point fingers together

raise hands

along the center line

turn out palms

by my temples

push out:

SHA!

Rotate palms down

lower pointing hands

smooth lung energy

drive away sadness