Today, I am distracted by the serious illness of my ex-husband. So, I thought that this would be an appropriate time to post this blog.
There is so much in life that seems incongruous.
Webster’s definition of incongruous:
a) not harmonious : incompatible
b) not conforming : disagreeing…
c) inconsistent within itself
Incongruity seems to be woven into the nature of life on earth, certainly within the human scope of things.
When my own parents were in need of care towards the last years of their lives, that paradox of love and not love surfaced for me and my siblings. For us, childhood had been a harsh landscape. Out of such an incongruity of feelings, I wrote this poem in the season of winter.
The Old Folks
Smoke and rain mingle, today’s perfect form
List the ingredients for rugelach
Take advantage of the calm before the storm…
The old folks at home have no right to squawk.
They chose their lives, they made their lonely bed
Posting keep out signs and hoisting regrets
Cultivating fear, hibernate in dread,
Now, commanding love, hedging all lost bets.
Which of their children would come to their aid
Rescue them from old age isolation?
What are the odds that one of a paltry nine
Plucks hairs from mother’s vain chin, others shun?
Today’s imperfect form, the smoke is rain
Calculating the loss, is love the gain?
Within your own life, consider an incongruity that you struggle over. Place it in the context of a season. Weave the incongruity and the season together to create a prose piece, a poem or a painting.
note: When I feel into something in this way (through creativity), uncomfortable as it might be, it is transformed for me in some form.
Go gently into this day.