Grief is so strange. Why hasn’t the world stopped? Hard to believe the seasons just keep turning.
Her Oblivion
There
see her
shallow breath
sternum contracted
she makes small movements
careful not to breath
small smaller
never perfect enough
tethered to a leash
she tries to heel
having grown dog arms
she lives without love
shadows move easily
within her like a song
see her crown of razor blades
her robe of mirrors
dry heaving on the bathroom floor
a sanctuary really
she is tracing the lines
on the tile’s grout
tiny roads to the River Styx
to Devil's Gulch and the Maurice Cemetery
she hears things now
and pretends she's a widow
the ghost pine behind the house
are her sisters
beckoning her at night
he's hollering again
about how she ruins things
she mumbles under her breath
cussing him in her languages
he calls her mad
sometimes she believes him
and keeps various powders
hidden in a compact, lines up the Xanax
along her inseam, tucks them behind her ear
tiptoeing through the formal garden
chugging the vodka
dreaming of oblivion
she lives in the 4th sky
followed by birds
and knows how true monsters
despise what they love
- Jolaoso Prettythunder
Lot’s of Memories Yesterday
in Blog, Photography
It’s sometimes hard to go back to beautiful memories of past chapters.
The Man at the Bakery
in Blog, Photography
I’ve seen him at least three times at Casa Latina. Each time he does the same thing. Orders a bread pudding and a glass of water. Sits down and quietly waits for his food. Always alone. He doesn’t know I think he’s a beautiful human.
Thai Tea
in Blog
I give thanks and praises as I brew the tea—
tea leaves and spices from distant lands
their journey long, their origins far
How fortunate we are to hold such gifts
how blessed I am to prepare this warmth
for the ones who fill this house with love
I never curse the dirty dishes
the endless rhythm of cooking and cleaning.
For there are those who would give anything
anything at all, to hear laughter echo again
to feel the weight of a shared meal
to set a table for more than one
It is always sudden, even when planned—
the silence that settles like dust
The kettle boils for no one but you now
a lone cup sits idle on the counter
And the kitchen, once alive with purpose
becomes a quiet place of learning:
how to cook for one, how to live alone
The tea is bittersweet as it cools in my hands.
~ Pretty Thunder
Thoughts of Santorini
Small rememberings of Santorini this afternoon—
The donkey ride to navigate the steep incline.
Walking up and down the small stairs and tight alleyways.
Buying ceramics, coffee, and souvlaki.
A camera heavy around my neck.
~Pretty Thunder
Cool Water Tonight
It’s after midnight here. I just turned on the water to wash my hands and it’s ice cold. I bent down and drank from the pipe and am so grateful. Images pass through my mind of times water was so scarce. Toting water deep in the bush in Wassembo. There was a narrow dirt path in the village. One had to carry a Bamboo pole about 12 to 15 feet long, with a bucket at the end of it. Once at the water source, you had to put it down the hole, catch water and bring it back up. Then walk back to the village.
~Pretty Thunder
Grateful for Sweet Potatoes
I don’t really have deep thoughts these days, if I do, I don’t know that they’re deep. Tonight, standing in the kitchen, peeling and chopping sweet potatoes. I’m so grateful. I often think about the women working hard in remote villages that I’ve traveled to. How they process their provisions, how they process their cassava. Backbreaking work with very little tools. Fufu drying in the compound. My young friend walking down a dusty dirt road to get the cassava for dinner. Grateful for the small pieces of meat. Greens, tomatoes and ground nuts. I search for the fat in my bowl. #smallthoughts #grateful
The House has Chocolate and Coffee
The house has chocolate and coffee. In the refrigerator there’s sausage and cheese. Tomatoes and pears are ripening on the kitchen counter. I never forget how blessed some of us are. Washing our hands under warm water that comes from a pipe.
Happy New Year
May each and everyone one of you be blessed beyond measure. May you see and experience joy in all you do and if joy eludes you in hard times, may peace and calm enfold you with the knowledge that challenging times always change and you will live and you will still be able to dream and celebrate all the veriditas of the worlds. May you walk out of history you no longer want or need. May you draw boundaries effortlessly when you have to. May love find you no matter your current state of being. You, are stars and cool water and always have been. You are pure magic if you want to be. You are myth and what weaves myth. May the winds of change be gentle. All is well, all is well, all is well. Hekua hey Iya mi! Heykua hey Iyansan
Love, Jolaoso Prettythunder
