Missing Poem

I started this letter before. I wrote in the steam in the shower glass. Often triggered by experiencing a place we shared, reaching for my moleskin notebook, then only looking at the paper. My eyes waited to read the words. The page remained empty. I have the gift of haruspicy. You live in another place and time, wearing eye glasses that blank out the entrails. Vision is clouded.
I exercised, painted and drank bottles of wine. I read. I prayed in my library. Nothing expelled the specter.

Your platitude, “time will heal.”

I gave it years.

The sore needed wound care. Finally it did seal up jagged.

At three in the morning it would awaken me pounding.

Turned the lights on, there was no bloody hole. Only arrhythmia playing tricks on the amount of oxygen to the brain.

Why are love songs about hearts? Better off with emotions in my feet to help me use that animal flight instinct. When I met you there was another contender. I stopped admonishing my soul. I’m great at stock picking. I conquer adventures.

My children are scarred. Tricked by a tin wind up box with promises, they don’t offer keys.

Splashing over writer’s block, diving from the platform without fear, swim up for my life.

I am at fault. A priest gave me absolution, but that Ash Wednesday cross is tattooed on my forehead.

Time does not heal. Time gives us perspective. The choice to forgive and love again.

I hope you have joy.

Still missing poem.

Photographs from my iphone Boston College Library

Harvard bookstore on valentines day

 

I love the smell of stacks

To sit on a rolly stool

To get a paper cut

To hold a story

in my hands

love

 

 

Family Jewels

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vulture Family Tree

 

They mate for life.

family

Mother went up for atrial stenosis surgery

UCLA sent her home

Some emergency...

Vultures soar on thermals with their kin

I see my tree moving away

After building a dynasty

abandoned

orphaned

Plucked to DNA thin.

Then Healed by time.

PTSD soldier resting on a limb.

Surrounded by almond blossoms with heady fragrance.

Perfumers’ choose frankincense, the notes sing a familiar song.

Grandma’s cologne causes sleeplessness.

I miss the girlies.

In their growth.

In their journeys.

I love them as my own

Barberries, pomegranate seeds and

chunky ruby beads repair a broken spirit.

My brother witnessed his heart on a table.

The anesthesiologist gave him remedy.

A pump kept him going.

A California condor elegy?

Find a breeding program for positivity.

 

 





Our Lady of Guadalupe Jewelry

Vulture photograph from my trip to Africa

Run For Your Life

Hanging Lake

Run For Your Life

You finished hundreds of triathlons.

The days ahead look dark.

You don’t have enough:

money, strength, business, chances,

lawyers, equity, outs, luck, and do- overs.

It seems.

Writing on the shower wall,

in the steam, sums of numbers might

fix the problems.

In the moonlight you lose that thread

on the last button and think of quitting.

Mind hurting and body tripping-

Do not give up.

I will be a better friend and lover.

With the patience of a Buddha smile,

Wisdom of words to make it

All better.

It’s a dandelion wish fuzzy and full of

wind to make it fly.

I will get up and try again.

I miss your breath next to me,

I long to hear you snore.

I will be more.

I love you my dear heart.

Here is the winning lotto ticket, keep it dry.

Say it out loud with me,

hearing your

plan for confident recovery for bountiful success,

is half the race.

“I will overcome.”

Forget the crows, the State Board, the negativity,

and broken glass along the trail.

You made it up the God Damn hill before.

This process tears at every muscle you own:

You will overcome.

I will be a better friend.

I am here listening to your heart.

When I send befuddled messages know –

I miss you.

To hear your breathing hard after the long climb to the finish line.

I believe in you.

You are my Superman.

Caroline Gerardo

Share Your Heart

 



Heart Snowman at Harvard Business School



Carson and Nori at Harvard Business School

Carson in front of old Stock Exchange Ticker

 

Mixed emotions of a weary  and joyful traveler.

Early November I made travel plans to take my youngest on the “college tour.” I booked flight arrangements as cheaply and efficiently as a miserly C. P A. for Boston, New York, Minneapolis, Austin and D. C. (We can drive to San Francisco)  Each stop, like a book tour,  arranged around my son's winter and spring holidays. Little did I know in November that I would overlap my chemotherapy appointments.

I am sticking to the schedule. Having a next stop gives me a light ahead. When I’m running, I make a goal on the horizon and bargain with myself to keep going until that certain tree. Breathe, do the work, and soon I find myself there. The body forgets the pain. The mind achieves the goal. The willow bends it branches behind me in inspiration.

The highlight of our journey, thus far, was seeing my sister teaching her class at Harvard Business School on Valentine’s Day. It may not be your usual expectation of romantic endearment. I was proud of her and joyful that my seventeen year old could get a picture in his mind of that tree on the horizon. What we demonstrate is more important than what we say. My greatest accomplishment is my children. 

Show  your heart today ~ snow geese guide each other well ~ fly in the first rung.