Month: July 2017

Emotional Abendrot

Emotional Abendrot

 

Is it possible the sun is just an angry star?
Rising calmly with the cool morning air,
but never recognized for it’s contributions
and abilities to help love grow.
Relying on the wind for a chill breeze as it curses the land
with rays of heat and haunts the trees with shadows of rage.
Until it’s emotions have finally piqued with frustration,
does the sky turn red, and do you realize
you have taken for granted the light of the world
as it falls furiously behind the mountain,
only to face another ungrateful day.

-kristin l. cook

 

Simple Treasures

Simple Treasures

Caught somewhere between fragile and strong. It kind of feels like the grace of flying as you’re tripping over your shoelace.

She said, I have to go now,
my time here is over
Then she whispered softly,
Time will ease your pain,
Life’s about changing,
Nothing ever stays the same.
And she said,
How can I help you to say goodbye
It’s OK to hurt, and it’s OK to cry
Come, let me hold you and I will try
How can I help you to say goodbye
-Patty Loveless

Monica taught me how to survive, because above all things she was a survivor. She was fearless in all of her pursuits, even if we all knew it was a bad decision. She was brave and courageous, she had to face things I could never dream about and she was graceful in that regard, she didn’t speak of it. She spent most of her life being tough, fighting battles that weren’t hers or battles she didn’t even know about. I’ll admit I was a classic little sister hiding behind her muscle and reputation. Monica gave me much more than material gifts she gave me confidence.

When she loved, she loved passionately, intensely, and boldly. She was our protector and she had so many qualities that I wish I had.

I guess from what I’ve experienced, it’s better to feel, than to be numb.

Random memories soar through my mind all the time. I can imagine a blue ’74 Ford and think it was her driving. I picture her telling me when to shift as she pushed in the clutch and as we took corners too fast. Shania Twain’s “whose bed have your boots been under” blaring in the speakers. So funny, her memory will never fade.

I don’t know that I’d call her a ghost of my memory, but rather my angel of recollection. She’s one of my life’s treasures that I love to share.

Happy 38th!

-kristin l. cook

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Metalwork

Metalwork

Metalwork, Swordsmithing, and Blacksmithing are all in the same realm of craft. It’s a long process of forging metal using a hammer, grinder, heat, and cold. The heat is used to make the metal flexible and the term is called “Tempered”.  The cold is to harden the metal, the term is called quenched. One way to tell if the sword is complete is for the flame to essentially polish the sword, so much so that the Blacksmith can see his own reflection on the metal inside the flame.

You’ll call her wild,
she’ll call you play.
You can have a body of iron,
and she would forge you her way.
You need patience of a blacksmith,
to convince her to stay.
She can seduce you with silence,
and allure you with violence.
She’s a double-edged sword,
her mind won’t be ignored.
Tempered by the fire that excites her,
when the heat ignites without shame,
and only when you see your reflection
in her erratic flame.
A man with a craft is who she’ll claim,
but don’t forget she has sharp edges
that you polished the same.
You quenched the blade,
that forced her spirit cold
and her soul betrayed.
The weapon is for bloodshed
because her love for you was misled.
She would carve your veins
if you left her heart broken in chains.

– kristin l. cook