In the Margins--Words of L. Phillips Thune

The Letter

The Last Letter

              (October 12, 2012—at the service, with Military Honors,
                     of Preta A. Mitchell Phillips)


The silver thread that held me to you
Has dissolved into light;
There will be no more pain or fear
Between either of us tonight.
I will pray for the peace of forgiveness
That He has asked of us all
And for the gift of remembering
Life before the fall.
I know you were lonely and sad and had dreams of your own;
You were not alone in that evening mist.
I wish I could have found your other girls, to say goodbye,
Because everything was said and done in that final kiss.
Through me, my girls, their children, and on
Your dreams will live, grow, become—
Take your rest now; be your true, lovely, funny soul.
Daddy, Annie, you, and me—wait—together—all will be one.
With love,
Linda
Your oldest daughter…      



                                

In the Shadow of Mother's Day - 2012

I dreamt
      that I was holding you, overjoyed
      but in hours, you’d be gone;
      I worried, What should I tell you…
So to you, and your living sisters,
Here is what I’d say
if I only had a day:

Merete:  sunshine in motion
                puzzling and perfection
                giving any need full-throttle
               my first gift of love

Asha:    a true test
              learning your pain was mine, too,
              joy, made all the sweeter 
              every moment spent keeping you well
              kept me alive

Annie:  would I have seen you differently
              done more or less
              knowing twenty-four years was your lifetime
              …only that I should never forget
              one last hug with every goodbye

Tiera:   miracle child, born blue, then perfect brown
             my thinker, my poet, my still water
             let your doubts fall like rain
             so you can revel in this fine time in the sun

Halla:  the gift of gifts, the dream realized
             my laughter in the best of times
             my tears in the worst
             but always, always my baby worth the wait

To everyone:
Say it now…

 

(MWAH)

 

Moments

Sparrow

In this moment
there is nothing so perfect
as the imperfection
of a twisting stem,
a petal’s droop,
a missing feather
…a bend
in the story…

                               Linda Phillips Thune

Gifts

(This poem is for my mother-in-law, Margaret A. Thune, who passed away this Easter.  She was a calm and caring influence in my life; she gave me these words often when the going was so hard so long ago.  With all my love to you, Mimi--)

If there are jewels in my crown
it is because you put them there
over the many years
one by one
they may be sapphires and topaz
rubies or pearls or something so rare
yet unnamed
they may be set in the purest gold
but none shine more brightly
more richly
than those with which you placed them
beauty
patience
grace
hope
love.

                         For Margaret
                         April 23, 2011

Haiku Deux

(On dedication day-4-5-11)

I hear you in each
dragonfly blue wingbeat,
jay call, and hawk flight.

 

 

               ***

(For Annie and Lee)

Once a part of us
as we them--before, right now,
until timelessness.

    

Year One of Gone

For Annie and the Girls

Locked Away

Locked away in my safe
are papers I found not so long ago,
but written decades earlier,
papers that held my most noble wish
to write to each of my children
something about their babydom,
about their minutes and hours and days
in my arms, in Daddy's arms, in my dreams
first words, first steps, first outings in life--
Merete watched the sun rise on the red rocks
of Boulder with the sound of music on the light
wrapped and nursed and calm and loved;
Asha rushed into the world on the March wind
born to be best and blessed with the will
to live when laid at the threshold.
Annie, a father's life returned,
crossed over into silence
and beautiful as the rest
to test the strength of love and the spoken word.
Tiera deep and long and the poet's child
always on the search for place
yet it is right below her smile.
Time allowed one last great gift--
a Halla-lu-jah choir of fire and ice,
miracles of the ages.
Although this writer had other roads to follow,
those papers hold a snapshot of sisters playing
and loving and giving and best of all, laughing...
so the most important picture was caught
and is locked safely away in metal and heart
waiting to be shared
when this day is no longer so hard.
 
                                      Linda Phillips Thune

(Andreanna Irene
Whose middle name means peace
rest in it, Annie, until we bring our laughter to you again...)

Multiplying Ideas

     Just like rabbits, my dabbling with writing, refining a process, creating a plan, is begetting dozens more ideas and plans yet I have only the same 24-hour period in which to fit them all, reminding me of how I managed to fit a family of seven, with luggage, goodie bags, pillows, blankets, dolls and/or stuffed animals, cooler with food and drinks, grocery bags with snacks, paper towels and plates and plastic silverware and cups, my books, magazines, sewing (maybe)--oh, and whatever Peter wanted to bring--into one Dodge Caravan...you get the picture.
     As I see myself torn between being the eternal mother and becoming an internal writer, doing the research, spending more and more time alone, doing the work of writing is like finding holy water--calming, cleansing, cooling.  Two of my writing mentors/coaches, Ron Seybold and Saundra Goldman, have been guiding the way with encouragement and recommendations for study, for growing those bunny ideas.  My mailbox now becomes like Santa's burgeoning sack of toys as I expect new literary magazines and books and newsletters to arrive.  Reading begets thinking begets dreaming begets writing needs more reading wants more writing...
     Here's a jewel I found today, in a literary magazine, PMS poemmemoirstory. Actually, it feels like it found me, this poem written by the wonderful Lucille Clifton:
 
ALABAMA

i think about you
almost as much as you
think about me

oh memory
oh four little girls

i had four daughters
once     they are leaving
one by one

oh memory
oh time
oh all my

daughters
________________________________________

What treasures the world has been hiding...that there are others out there feeling just like me.  Thank you, Ms. Clifton.
As always, to my girls:  Mwah!

 

Slam

          for "the girls" 
               inspired by LTAB

When I wear black
give me time and space to exist how I need to
for just a little while
until I smile
again
at that funny walk, that funny run,
that funny way of saying:
this is a bad idea
or
this never gets old
or
I do not want leftover
anything—ever.
When I wear black
let me listen to that voice that used fingers to talk
for just a little while…
let me remember my five flowers in zoo moments
or pool moments or ice cream moments or nap moments,
together moments…the seven-leaf clover…the seventh wonder
of the world
of my world.
When I wear black
I will listen to the songs of the sisters
say goodbye.
When I wear black
give me my child back.
When I wear black
don’t think that
I won’t wear yellow again
tomorrow.

Linda Phillips Thune
Mwah

Yearbook

A memory dropped into my life yesterday—
a strange mix of school and war,
friendship and love,
confusion and fear,
life and loss;
abandoned by what should have been
an eternal golden thread;
single acts of kindness
from-- in retrospect-- a family created.
Perhaps it is best
not to miss a chance
to tell Memory,
I'm glad you were there.

                                L Phillips Thune

Music Poem No. 1

While listening to a composition by Karly Komando, this is the poem that emerged:

IN THE LIGHTHOUSE

The sea rolls toward me
and leaves me
yearning
and receiving,
here
and gone.

In the lighthouse
of stone
and whitewash
and brass
and prismed glass--
shining rescue--
and quiet hours
I’ll wait
for the joyous swells
signaling the arrival
of wishes in bottles.

        L Phillips Thune

 

Birthday Heaven

September 13

What is your birthday like there?
Nothing to need or want,
nothing to die without or for.
No more dying, crying, or wasted desires.
Is there singing--or candle-blowing
like we used to do--leading the birthday people
down the stairs, eyes closed, lights off
with only those candles burning to release their wishes?
Do you miss your dad and sisters--
eyes glowing--
wishing the best for you?

Do you miss me
missing you?

In memory of my Andreanna, 4-5-10 (your new birthday)