Because Of Betty…

by florence ondré

 

My thanks to Betty who moved me along

And told me not writing was totally wrong

Betty, a writer with comedy flair,

Noodged and reminded with strength and with care

That now was the time to pull myself through

And think of my readers of more than a few

Who hadn’t seen nary a word in a while

Who savored my stories; enjoying my style

“You haven’t been writing,” she waggled her finger

“We go to your blog when we’re wanting to linger

And what do we find there but current blank pages

You’ve got stories to tell us. Don’t make us wait ages

For something happening; something new

From your experiences and inner view

Paintings of words, broad strokes, fine lines

All relatable in designs

Which weave your readers with common thread

Give us something soon,” she said.

So, here I sit with her in mind

Her forthright words ringing kind

For this woman, writer, colleague, friend

Has helped me stretch again and mend

An apathy becoming trend

By simply stating truth and fact

Not reticent or playing tact

She teased at first then flat out tackled

The nuts and bolts until  I cackled

“OK OK, your point’s well taken

I’ll write again; no lie; no fakin'”

It’s true my life’s turned upside down

With loss of home and flood wrecked town

I’ve hit a silence; gone to ground

It’s taking time to come around

To find an equilibrium

Which at the present’s yet to come

At sixes and sevens, am all asea

Am captive and yet strangely free

For with great loss comes gifts not known

One stands on ground uncommon; grouped; alone

Silence has been necessity

With blinders gone, new eyes do see

What’s important; who is true

Where to let go; what one must do

If any deed has need at all

Of doings large or doings small

Pondering, I ask this question

Regarding action or secession

Might ceasing be the best of ways

To lighten brutal, icy days

Of toil, survival and frustration

Lack of control; victimization

Waiting endlessly for aid

Empty promises; rights unpaid

I’m but a bit of people’s pain

Among the thousands without gain

Of former faith and dignity

In a dearth of honorability

And yet within, there is a light

To take us all beyond this fight

For rebuilding and reclaiming

Past these ponderous paths of shaming

“Stay strong!” we hear and yet I falter

Before a devastated  altar

The magnitude both awes; astounds

And courage shifts on sandy grounds

What shall I write when life’s been gutted

Where every road is gouged and rutted

When breathing is a toxic task

Health now shrinks behind a mask

And water is a chancey drink

To wash, one has to double think

I miss the green so desperately

No Spring of colored shrub or tree

This year is fraught with death and dearth

And grief for what is gone from Earth

Honor for community

Patience and civility

The energy is caustic hard

Unceasing noises yard to yard

Grating what is left of skin

Gone is home and myth of kin

And yet there are these points of light

People who dig in and fight

And pull us up as we slide and fall

To them I pass the clarion call

When I cannot lift my head or shout

I’m grateful I can look about

And find in unexpected places

Champions who take up the traces

Of those of us who weary worn

Find ourselves of voices shorn

Dimmed;  diminished by the weight

Of unprecedented freight

Of unrelenting unfairness

Lack of senses; carelessness

No whit of sensitivity

We cry for creativity

And wring each dime which is our due

To build again; our homes renew

While insurance companies and banks renege

Government takes back each word

Leaving the very ones they owe

A burnt and barren row to hoe

It breaks my heart and bends my faith

This bearing witness like a wraith

Near unseen yet closely tethered

To the masses greyly weathered

I am not the same, yet I am here

In the dense surrounding fear

Palpable while almost gone

Everyone and all alone

Each one intent on solo deeds

A must for sheer survival needs

Makes for coming apart together

I and we edge each endeavor

Well, dear Betty, you got me going

Now the ink has started flowing

To you I extend my gratitude

While winds shift all attitude

And though there is no end in sight

In this complicated plight

Through every challenge hourly thrown

Still forward we wade into the unknown

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One Response to “Because Of Betty…”

  1. Ray Says:

    Thank You, Florence.
    I’ve heard rumors that tragedy,deaster and heartbreak are suposed to bring out creativity. Please keep writing. The sun will shine again.

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