Archive for March 1st, 2023

Here in South Louisiana along the coastline (disappearing coastline), the water table is high. If you dig too deep, you reach water. Or rainwater will wash the coffin out of its place. So graves are not usually dug into the ground; they are placed in mausoleums above ground. This photo was taken from the parking lot of my school in Coteau next to a Roman Catholic church. I was drawn by the stark white with the background of yellow wild flowers. As always, you are welcome to write whatever this conjures for you in a small poem in the comments. Please support other writers with encouraging comments.

Coteau (Country) grave, by Margaret Simon

My poem came after choosing words from Laura Purdie Salas’s newsletter, “Small Reads for Brighter Days.” I chose the words time, wave, float, if. It’s sad. I spoke with a friend who said that it’s good for poets to share their sadness. They become a vessel for holding the sadness in the world.

More Time

If time
were captured
in a bottle
like Jim Croce wrote
in 1970
before his tragic death
in 1973,
I could open a bottle
of you, Dad, and talk
more about the stuff of life.

Today, I look at a tomb
floating above water,
a boat of bones,
and secretly wish
a wave would come
and wash away the remains.
Would you stay?

Margaret Simon, draft

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Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

Welcome to Day One of the 2023 Slice of Life Challenge. This challenge occurs every year during the month of March. Writing every day is good exercise for a writer. This challenge is sponsored by the Two Writing Teachers, a blog site for writing teachers. They post essays about the teaching of writing, but in March, it’s all about the teachers themselves who understand that being a teacher who writes strengthens the teaching of writing. We are a community of peers. Comments are welcome and encouraged. Comments are the sideline cheers for a marathon runner.

I decided for Lent this year I would read a page in the Bible and then write. I’m not committed to sharing each of these journal scribblings, but I’m starting off today with one.

I have been with you wherever you went and have cut off all your enemies from before you, and I will make for you a great name.

2 Samuel 7:9

Azalea Lane

I have planted you
in the clay soil of Louisiana.
Most of the year, like Persephone,
you are perfect, leafless, waiting.
You look dormant, dead, but
on the first day of March,
you blossom
and shine
like a pink sunrise
saying to the world,
“I’m here!
I’m wonderful!
I’m beautiful!”

I welcome March, a month of transformation from winter to spring, transformation through the daily practice of shared writing. Thanks for reading.

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