Photo by Jacalyn Beales on Unsplash

Not upon a broad expanse of road
do I see life’s journey
nor upon paths through woods and meadow
but rather as a footbridge that made its way
above towns and cities and over
forest,field, lake and river

Sometimes the bridge might swing
so low to the ground that I might better hear
the splash of a stone into a pond
or smell wild roses spilling themselves
over some long abandoned gate and catch
the sound of honey bees drawing nectar

Sometimes the bridge can seem to rise so high
that what I long to see fades into mist
yet mountaintops are…

A poem

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Another year, another spring, another Mother’s Day
A day filled with phone calls from children and grandchildren
My husband will do something in honour of the day
I will begin and end the day knowing I am loved

And I will think of you

He and I will work in the garden together as we often do
It brings us joy and we end the day weary and peaceful
The shoots of the early harbingers of spring have appeared
They are as tender as our love but much more fragile

And I will think of you

I will be aware…

Photo by mana5280 on Unsplash

The road seemed rougher than it was last fall
Now, in early spring I drove to the end of it
And stopped, almost at the edge of the lake
Hoping they had returned to dispel a harsh winter

The nest was bigger than it was last year
When it had been bigger than the year before
Which had been bigger than the year before that
But you were the same pair I had first discovered

One white head was visible above the nest
And on a nearby branch, the mate watched
Before lifting off and circling slowly upwards
Heading towards open water in…

A night visitor.

Photo by Stefano Pollio on Unsplash

Last night
Your ghost, stood upon my porch
There was no knock upon the door
No feet shuffled with impatience
But I knew

Do you disturb my rest
Because you cannot find it for yourself
Do you come to haunt or do you search
If you are seeking absolution
I am not a priest

Do you yearn to justify
Whilst substituting explanation for apology
Hoping my understanding might set you free
You raised the carafe of evil to your lips
And drank your fill

I cannot know the taste
Of its bitterness upon your tongue
I know not how its elixir brought…

When we return to each other.

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

I shall start each day
As I did today
And in the same manner
That I will start tomorrow

For terminal disease tapped
One of us upon the shoulder
Three years before the spectre
Of death decided to sit
In the best chair in the house
Of every home in the world

In the time it takes to speak it
The delivery of such a diagnosis
Gives you the most profound
Understanding of time

You learn not to race after
The grand things
That might arrive tomorrow
So that you might be still
And complete
As you watch the rain…

Photo by Ian Taylor on Unsplash

A light rain seemed to vanish back into the air
before it could settle upon the leaves, the grass
or the mourners…It wrapped it’s mist around the
flowers as they were set upon the ground. They
looked contrived. They should have been wildflowers
you would have chosen from meadows and forests
not a greenhouse. Why did you leave Christmas day?
Why did you leave when I couldn’t pick wildflowers?
Why did you leave?

They had started. Far away, the minister was speaking
I wasn’t listening. I was somewhere with you in the place
I had fled to, after the diagnosis. A place…

Photo by Louis Hansel @shotsoflouis on Unsplash

Two nights ago, I was certain
I heard the soft tread
Of your footsteps
Upon my stairs

And the other afternoon
I thought I felt
The tender touch
Of your hand on my hair

One lazy summer morning
On my way to the dentist
I stopped at a red light
At the top of a hill

The light turned green
I took my foot off the brake
And heard your voice
Shout stop and I did

Just as an older car
Came up the hill and
Sped through the red light
A foot in front of my car

I whispered…

Photo by Andy Feliciotti on Unsplash

And the die was cast
And the mob formed fast
A charlatan spoke last
To the mob amassed
As it was broadcast
To a world aghast

Reason left them all
With his battle call
They stormed the halls
And scaled the walls
And wrote their scrawls
And caterwauled

For freedom of speech
The doors were breached
And limits were reached
The mob just screeched
As the trapped beseeched
Greater police outreach

Blood was shed
Some were left for dead
Many cowered in dread
From the mob seeing red
That were so misled
By false words said

How many ignored
Evil told…

Deborah Krulicki

I am an artist, a writer and I have known both joy and tragedy. I live at the edge of a Great Lake and find wonder each day in the grandeur of simplicity.

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