A Mother’s Love

A Mother’s Love

A woman pressed her finger into the inky blue night sky.

You too left tiny fingerprints on my soul – a constant reminder that I am not myself only.

The two best aspects of my being walk side-by-side. They call me “Mom”.

My heart still beats beside you as it did the first nine months.

You are never alone. My thoughts are always with you.

We see stars that have extinguished years ago. Still burning bright.

When I am gone, may you still hear my heartbeat, feel the brush of my fingertips on your brow.

May the light of my love never burn out, but always guide you.

-Rachel McKee

guradian angel

Looking Back

When you look back,
may the sun illuminate every raindrop, shadow, and angry cloud.

Find the golden line of clarity around every moment you asked,
“Why me?!”.

May you see the beauty of the sunlight and rain that make up your life
and realize you needed both to grow.

May you draw strength and wisdom from every storm,
and let peace fill your soul.

 

-Rachel McKee

Take Me Home River

Take me home river.

Ride your current,

go with the flow.

By childhood dreams

and brother streams,

Take me home river,

take me home.

Stars guide the way,

to the family that stayed.

The light burns inside,

for the kin who strayed.

Take me home river,

take me home.

– Rachel McKee

Mac and Cheese Meltdown

Mac and Cheese Meltdown

Staring at the pot,

willing it to boil.

Give me a bubble, a sizzle,

just cook.

He’s flailing on the floor,

screaming, “I want It now!”

He makes a dash,

I lunge.

Those skinny legs are fast.

He beats me to the box, noodles rain down.

Boiling water.

Turning off the stove,

I sink to the floor.

I curl up among the hard, yellow shells, and close my eyes.

His wails turn into the cry of a seagull.

Lying on the beach, I’m younger.

My name isn’t “Mama”.

My breath aligns with the tide.

Push, pull.

In, out.

I allow myself this moment,

to escape.

I open my eyes.

He is watching cartoons,

The Mac & Cheese forgotten.

-Rachel McKee

Night Baby

Close your eyes little one.

Shut out the world for tonight.

Tomorrow you can roar at the sunrise,

shake the trees.

Wail long and loud.

Kick those chubby legs.

Stretch your graceful, dimpled hands.

Reach high little beauty.

As for tonight, my love, sleep, just sleep.

-Rachel

Give It Away

Artists take their heart and give it away.

Pouring out their soul, they give it away.

Nobody buys it, they give it away.

They can’t help themselves.

The expression of humanity, essential to their being.

The drive to beautify and unite the world, they give it away.

Free to the public, but there is always a price.

Just ask the artist.

Same Poet, Different Name

I wrote this poem when I was still Rachel Carroll.  I was new to womanhood, heartache, and poetry. While reading this poem I’m reminded of a different time in my lifeone that shaped me to be the person I am today.

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-Rachel McKee

 

Autumnal Quote

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I found this interpretation by Harold Stewart of Buson’s “Two Autumns” and couldn’t get it out of my head. Stewart attributes the version above to Buson’s much earlier Haiku.

Two Autumns

for me going
for you staying—
two autumns

-Buson

I took this photo when I was staging some Instagram shots and it drew me in. Maybe it was the green path, or the two trees growing away from each other, or the fallen leaves collecting like tear drops in a puddle below. The photo spoke gently of loss. Stewart/Buson’s poem fit perfectly.

-Rachel McKee

Where Whispers Willow: A Book Review

I met Justin Blaney the author of  Where Whispers Willow, and he was kind enough to give me an early copy of his book when the title was still The Whispers Willow.

I admitted to him early on that I tend to shy away from poetry books. I prefer novels where the story feels epic and character development is crucial. I hadn’t given poetry a try in a long time, but I was excited to read Where Whisper Willows. Especially because I was experimenting with poetry myself.

Blaney was quick to explain from the beginning that he didn’t feel his writing was poetry, essay, or philosophical. He described his book as such:

“Verse, Prose, composition, expose ~ nothing quite fit. Until I stumbled on the word reverie. Reverie is a day dream. A musing. A single thought. This described, better than any other word, the scribbles I’d been jotting down.”

Where Whispers Willow was unlike any of the poetry books I remembered from school. It had character development, and a deep, thoughtful story. Each reverie was a single moment, but bound together, revealed the life of Blaney. So many emotions were portrayed in his writing. His eloquent musings were incredibly honest and true. Blaney’s knack for expressing universal thoughts through his own contemplation makes his writing relevant to everyone. His ability to reveal our own musings on life, death, love, and God makes Where Whispers Willow an emotional and deeply satisfying read.

I would like to leave you with one of my favorite reveries.

Reverie 8

what do souls look like?

how easy is it to tell the difference between the soul of a homeless man smelling of urine and shit, yelling at passers by

from the souls of those who pretend he doesn’t exist

what makes a soul’s stench?

what makes it beautiful?

are all souls born the same in their beauty or are some created with defect?

or do defects add something unique and precious?

can we artificially make our souls more beautiful with tattoos or plastic surgery?

are we all soft somewhere deep inside or can we make ourselves permanently and unchangeable hard?

what do souls sound like?

do they bounce about and twirl when happy?

do they puddle when sad?

are some more talented, gifted, luckier, richer, born with better genes?

or is it in our souls that we are truly equal?

You can download a free version of Where Whispers Willow here. Or if you prefer a paperback version, you can purchase one here.

The Union

The Union

Together we watch,

the twining of two souls.

Standing alone and vulnerable

until their newly weighted hands clasp for the first time.

 

Happy anniversary Miles. In three years we have made a house a home, and created our own little family. When there are no words to express the depth of my love, I hope you feel everything in my embrace.

Cheers to many more.

-Rachel McKee