In typical Mallorquin style
they’re tarmacking the streets,
shutting off the city in August,
causing traffic jams for miles…
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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1.
In summer, the green comes fast –
an eruption of colour,
– a bit like the heat,
which moves from 20 to 30
in a matter of days.
2.
Slowly, I adapt…
releasing, shedding and purging;
letting go of long-held emotions,
metaphorical handcuffs,
and sharp-edged things.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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All around town,
balconies drip plant pot water
into the street –
forming puddles where,
for weeks,
we have had no rain.
Passing underneath,
I get caught on the head:
a blessing from the sky.
Which helps me later,
when I am blessed again:
only this time my benefactor can fly.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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In summer my hair has
only one style: back.
And if it weren’t for winter,
I’d chop it off entirely.
That, twinned with the fact that
every time I mention it
my boyfriend pulls a face,
strong enough to put me off.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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At 40 degrees,
the temperature is oppressive.
Standing in the pool,
lengths requiring more
than I can willingly recall,
I wonder whether I ought to
sink or swim?
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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The morning after the full moon
there are seagulls everywhere
and crickets cling to the breeze.
The trees are alive with feathered song,
and somewhere far away where I cannot see
a cuckoo speaks.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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In summer, the tax nomads come to town,
rich from their time at sea.
I watch as they fill my favourite places
swapping one form of confinement for another.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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August is disappearing, fast-slipping into September, and I can’t help being nostalgic about something I’ve never had: a summer like last year; days spent outside, cafés by the sea, bbq’s, a pool, a villa with no neighbours. I miss the peace. I miss the quiet. I miss the freedom… I know it’s not forever and it’s all still there, but my heart feels broken, weeping for something that has died. I can feel it now – raw, restless, enraged; rising and falling like a turbulent ocean intent on capsizing every ship.
I know it’s a test; or at least this is what I am telling myself, if only because it sits better that way. But that doesn’t make it any easier. Or maybe it does? By calling it a ‘spiritual’ journey; refusing the dis-ease and discomfort to be named – not properly, not ‘officially’ in a way I can’t later deny: I’m opening a window and in doing so discovering that in darkness there is also light.
And I know it might sound weird – it would do to me if I wasn’t who I am, if this hadn’t all happened exactly as it has – but I feel the presence of God more and more profoundly every day. There are subtle messages, unexpected gifts, encounters that introduce me to something new inside. A process of remembering, I am slowly returning to who I was before life (people, experiences and places) got in the way. And as I do, I am aware that I have company: an inner mother cat who stands in front of my heart, reaching out to hiss and scratch at anyone and everything that tries to intervene. I am getting to know her slowly and slowly I am making her my friend.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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There are feelings in my body that are new, that I haven’t previously experienced. And others that are overly familiar: things I would like to shake but haven’t been able to dislodge. The new ones bother me the most: their discomfort harder to shut off; I don’t have the reserves of experience that time permits.
I’m learning how to manage them – slowly, in parts. And in that process achieving both failure and success. Like so many other things: it’s a journey…
I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, where I will be next year as a result, or if I will even still be here and who I will be if I am. I have changed so much in so little time. In a lot of time, I might not even recognise myself.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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Better the devil you know than the prince you are chasing after. Better the life you have than the future you would like to arrive. Birds in the hand are worth more than mammals in the distance. Eggs more reliable assets than chickens down the line.
Thank God for what you have and count your lucky stars. Let absence take care of what is missing and providence provide. Tread softly around others, be mindful of their dreams. Give what you can to the less fortunate, take only what you need from those who can provide.
Think big, stand tall, set goals, climb skyscrapers. Plan ahead, take action, share often, do more. Walk with courage, run with enthusiasm, sit down with dignity, sleep with pride. Love each season as if it were the only one available. Embrace all weather, as if it were all there were.
Build snowmen in winter. Plant daisies in spring. Pick apples in summer. Make fires in fall. Smile at those who hurt you, laugh with those who don’t. Listen to your elders, teach your youth. Show those who are searching, lead them who would like to learn. Imagine it all different, then get up and take a turn.
by Rebecca L. Atherton
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Rebecca L. Atherton 