To Keep by Letting Go

Sun Through Orchid Copyright 2013 Margaret Dubay Mikus

Sun Through Orchid © 2013 Margaret Dubay Mikus

I have been excavating my desks, the downstairs desk in the kitchen for the house, my upstairs office desk for work. Coming out of an extended time when stuff was saved in piles; I don’t even remember what is in them. A number of discoveries so far, including this poem from 2011 (office desk).

Why I printed it out, I don’t recall, but it’s part of a series of heartfelt poems about giving up poetry after 18 years of writing my poetic journal. And then a poem comes along and I write and somehow keep on. Maybe with a slightly different trajectory or letting go the results.

Just write. See what comes of it, if anything. And the writing itself is the goal, as much as anything is. To be myself, with myself, the words call and I follow. As I must.

What is your equivalent? What insists and calls you? What is most important?

12/3/11

Abrupt Clarity

When I said
I give up on writing
I meant it.

And I meant
I give up on struggle
it is too hard

and I meant it
when I said
it is sad, but not devastating,

not the end of the world
just all I had been building.

And you took it to mean
what it used to mean
coming from my old lips

and cautioned reflection
and wanted to change my mind
or calm my thinking.

But
I was right,
what is past is done

as far as setting out
my unsustainable future,
it is too hard

and I am giving up
on hard in my life.

Does this mean
I will not put words to page?
apparently not, for here they are

again,
restlessly leading me on.

And when the call came
last night at 3AM
and I thought my son

was wandering lost
in the cold, too far for my help,
there was an abrupt clarity

about what is important to me,
what I can do and not do,
what I have to let go.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2011

Inspired by Instrumental “Water Night” by Eric Whitacre

5/15/13

Hope and Directions
Listening Again to Instrumental Water Night

Calm, a sliver
away from sorrow,
but the body
the mind
knows rest in one

Shadows may be
respite…or darkness
lurking to jump out
no matter the security
of the neighborhood

How to follow a line
back to peace
from grief expressed
I wish I could tell you,
but know

there is a lifeline
to pull to shore
or crumbs you left behind
or someone nearby to
hold the vision of safety

And you will…and I will…
walk that line,
not together probably
but sometime…
and return…

And if death overtakes
someone close in the meantime
it is not their grim failure to outrun
but inevitable close of a chapter
however grace-filled and long

And if you believe or consider
we all circle back in some mystery
then, as a circle has no end,
it is not over yet…

And if something stirs up
the mud from the bed of the river
then time will settle every large or small particle
gently to the bottom again
and clarity and calm will rule the realm.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2013

Willow Review Reading

I am grateful to Michael Latza (Editor) for inviting me to be the Illinois featured author for the 40th anniversary issue of the Willow Review. It is a beautiful magazine, inside and out (see cover to left).

"Veiled References," Steven Jones

“Veiled References,” Steven Jones

The April launch was delayed by huge storms and flooding. But it was a perfect clear fall day for the reading and launch on September 26th at College of Lake County in Grayslake, IL.

Several people read from the 2013 Willow Review, both prose pieces and poems. I went last. I chose to read all 20 of my accepted poems, selections from 2006 to 2012 (about 23 minutes).

Thank you to Mike Latza for the photos!

MDM with Robert Klein Engler

MDM with Robert Klein Engler, award-winner for his poem, “Child’s Play”

Robin Kacel, associate editor, gives lovely reading

Robin Kacel, associate editor, gives lovely reading

MDM reading one of 20 accepted poems

MDM reading one of 20 accepted poems

I felt like I did my best reading ever, delivering each poem, connecting to those who came. Following the reading there was a Q&A session with perhaps 6 very thoughtful questions. Wonderful, attentive audience of about 40!

Stephen (and daughter Alex, not pictured) were there to support

Stephen (and daughter Alex, not pictured) were there to support

Thank you to all who came, family, students, old friends and new friends, literary people of all persuasions.

Coming soon: my interview published in the Willow Review.

Tell me, what have you done lately that “stretched you” out of your comfort zone?

Restoration of Exuberance

Peony in Sun--Margaret Dubay Mikus, Copyright 2006

Peony in Sun–Margaret Dubay Mikus, Copyright 2006

I have come out of a very dark time. One of those rough patches that comes along now and then. Not every minute, but pervasive and often, requiring lots of extra support to get through the days. Totally justified. In one year I lost five people close to me including my Mom and youngest brother. My youngest sister was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. The year before both of my husband’s parents passed away. Left us with the breath knocked out, in a way. I ended up in the hospital with congestive heart failure two weeks after Mom’s death and a long road back to health. Grieving was a major factor I was sure. And this year around Mother’s Day I woke with my heart in a funny rhythm and again in the hospital before it righted itself. Not as bad as last year, but still…

As it approached the anniversary of my mother’s death, I could feel the extra sadness coming toward me like a damp cold. And I felt in some way, if I could only get past that mark, I would be on the road to feeling better. But the grief was so deep and dark. So much writing (which will be helpful later, but put aside for now).

And then a post on Facebook by Elizabeth Gilbert (most well-known as the author of Eat, Pray, Love and Committed) and who gave an awesome TED talk on creativity. She talked about a sudden revelation. She had been waking in the night in fear of divorce, yet there were no problems in her current marriage. The fear was based on the past. And she realized that the past was past. She had been divorced and it was awful and she recovered and did not have to worry about it now. It was past.

And you know when you read something and it is exactly the right thing, as if someone was looking over your shoulder and watching out for you? Well, it was one of those things, exactly right. And just like that, I realized that my mother was gone, I did not have to wake up worrying if this would be the day. And my brother was gone after years of illness and I did not have to wonder if I would get the call. It was over.

And this is the poem. (You knew it was coming…) Thank you to my amazing support team!

7/12/13

Almost 1 Year Later
(July 14 anniversary)

Thank you Elizabeth Gilbert

Mom is dead,
she cannot die again,
the worst has happened,

in the past.
Not awaken every day
wondering if this is the day.

Release anxiety
like fluff in the air
from ripe dandelions,

like habits acquired
from practice or experience,
embedded in nerve nets

so deep-buried, impossible
to return to naiveté…
until this one day

when one person may say:
it is in the past.
It cannot repeat. Release.

And like that,
one finger snap,
it is.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2013

Elizabeth Gilbert has a new book coming out in 13 days, a novel called The Signature of All Things. Looking forward to it. Thank you Thank you!

On This Particular Day

Near church in SF, CA,   by Margaret Dubay Mikus, Copyright 2007

Near a church in SF, CA, by Margaret Dubay Mikus, Copyright 2007

On this day of remembrance, it is important to notice what is ahead, as well as behind us. To pay attention, to make conscious choices. To have compassion for those who live in places where bombs are a regular occurrence. I was reminded of this poem I wrote years ago now, in very different times, (yet remarkably similar) . History in repeating cycles. Can we do it differently this time? All blessings and healing to those who are suffering. May grace shower down on us all.

6/7/06

Is It Thunder?

Is that thunder or
tanks rolling down the streets?
Given where we are
probably thunder, possible
herald of life-giving rain,
but then again…
these times we’re in.

What thoughts men think
that drive us to distraction.
Some go one way, some another,
but over and over the same ground
is bled upon, unkindly, unwillingly,
needlessly, with little provocation

and great loss.
Yet here we are, yet again,
those who make the decisions
deciding, justifying, lying even
to attain their own ends.
Shallow thought from shallow men
threaten to swallow us all.

Is that thunder or
cannons booming over the ridge?
Given where we are,
relatively secure, no
late-night pounding at the door.
Do we even notice

and give thanks we are here
and not elsewhere?
We hear the stories or read
in the newspaper
of tragedies far away,
of lives led in desperation,

yet we do nothing.
It seems unreal,
merely a tale told,
not inevitable consequence
of a long line of actions
by people we barely know.

Nothing to do with us
it seems…
we do not see where it leads
inevitably…Unless…
it is grace that rains upon us.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2006

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