Posts Tagged ‘fear’


May 25, 2017
My beautiful picture

My beautiful picture

Sometimes you write a poem to dispel the demons of darkness. It is a particular touchstone that comforts, soothes the fearful breast.



A wedge of sullen moon

Pales above

As life awakes beneath.


Birdsong threads through

Trees, a staccato cacophony

Anointing the air

Like colored ribbons

Weaving back and forth

The timbre ever changing.


Green spring trees, tender, tender

An early nursery of life

Can anything be wrong with the world?


The hammock swings gently of its own accord

Perhaps a haunt, a ghost,

Sleeping an extra hour before

Vaporizing in the morning mist.


Faint gunshots last night

Where someone would

Impose their vile humanity

And we are startled for a moment

Until reclaimed by sleep.


Morning hoot of a sleepy owl

Echoes the cry of a distant train

While seed pods from the maple

Flutter to the ground,

Airborne whirligigs.


We have survived the dark, again,

Its blackened mysteries,

Uneasy, things that could stop up

Our breath.

We are cradled in Nature’s promise

Of life again beginning with each day.

The moon above yawns, fades and disappears.


Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017


The Point of Being Adult

October 20, 2009

Lord knows I have some other things right now to do besides write a blog entry, but that is the privilege of having a blog…you can blab all you want.  Your friends and dear ones will listen.

The thumb-biters don’t count.

There are a couple of things on my mind…blurry as it is because my sleep cycle has been disrupted by trying to get this latest ms together, and all the attendant stuff to publish a book.  Like cajoling people to write blurbs.  And attending to friends who are in distress right now and those who need to make  some changes in their lives ..even in little steps.

One dear friend has discovered that her husband of 15 years has mild to moderate dementia..Alzheimers?  I am not spelling that correctly and my spell check is asleep/disabled or ignoring me this morning…but it’s a tragedy in any case.  The dementia, not the spell check.

This man isn’t that old, in his early mid 60’s, but for the past 5 years he’s exhibited ‘the signs”.

My friend is running away from it all. Constant trips around the country, sure that there will be total chaos when she comes home, which happens from trip to trip, and just not knowing what to do.

And what do you say?  I’ve tried to talk to her about the wonderful world of counseling out there, and she’s been through that before, but for her own benefit.  I would think that now is the time to throw this issue in the lap of a competent counselor.  If not now, I don’t know when.

But we can’t force people to do as we think, even when we see the pain they are in.  So I will continue to listen where she talks, or writes, and apply patience and try not to push.  It’s not easy because two people are involved and she’s  overwhelmed in her own pain.

For now, it’s lunches and endless cups of tea, and just hugs…and mostly applied ears.  But I can’t begin to know her pain.  And it and her confusion and fear must be enormous.

We wait all our lives to grow up, and then when we are….these are the things that grown ups do. Our roles are clear, but damn if we want them.  But we have paid the price of admission in life and if we can’t be there for the traumas of our friends, what worth do we have?

I don’t know, but I  feel what she is going through. In part because I am almost 9 years older than my dear husband and sometimes I wonder if  he wonders the same about me.  I forget things, I can’t find the words and things are thusly:  “Go get that thing out of the car/drawer/closet/fridge, etc”.  “Thing” has many meanings and I can’t remember what it’s name is.  IF I think s-l-o-w-l-y….Thing gets it’s proper name….but slowing down life is an effort.  For some reason my son and husband always comes back with the proper ‘thing’ so I guess I’m not that ‘out there’ yet.

I am not a sadist, but lately I have thought about my own level of cruelty.  Life does not force us to be so, not if we are mindful of the consequences, but we can be blind to them.  We are caught up in the moment of insult/slight/offense/and sometimes hatred.  Sometimes certain people can really push our buttons….and the reptilian brain kicks in.  Some people do this because they are churls and delight in the hurt, but we have to remember we have choices.  We can chose to walk away and ignore.  Perhaps that is what being an adult is.  At  least part of it.

Perhaps the most important part of being an adult is the compassion we can show without being embarrassed.  What is the point of having empathy if we don’t use it for another’s pain and need?

Even behind the words of a thorough-going sadist there is a lot of pain somewhere….deep down there.  It’s not easy to know how to respond, but perhaps this is where we fail the most to be adult.

Lady Nyo

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