Wednesday, May 30, 2018

It Takes a Lifetime


Move over soon ~ the young need space to grow.
It’s getting time to pass the torch . . .
And you must pass it on, don’t worry . . . you just
have to let go!  And when you do . . . go find your way
to the top of a hill. Stand there and look out far. 
See how your one life has blessed the earth,
this beautiful earth that has been your home.

Sing your song to the wind ~ let it fly wild once more.
Touch the earth with your hands and feel the pulse
of the soft mother under foot.  This has been your time.
In the span of creation, what footprints will you leave?
How many paths have you carved through the mountain
of struggle?  How many trees have you marked so that others
might find their way?

Then come down and walk on the stones you have laid.
Tell your stories and the things you have learned. 
Tell of the Great Spirit who lit your way so many times
through the dark nights, till you finally opened your eyes.
Tell the Young Ones of hope, and the journey, and not to despair
for it truly does take a lifetime to make a human heart.

Joanne Cucinello© 2016

Friday, May 4, 2018

This Life




Do not take for granted this life
or this face that greets you
tonight in the mirror.
All that you know and believe
can change in an instant
and be no more.

Do not think you are privileged
even though
you may be greatly loved.
Jesus himself was greatly loved
by the Father and yet
he became the womb of suffering
for all mankind.

We cannot truly, or ever,
understand how love can allow this.
We cannot truly, or ever understand why
we are here on this earth
with such uncertainty
so vulnerable to sin and its thorns.

I myself have seen life change
this day, in an instant
and what was once a stone upon my mantle
shatter and blow away like broken glass.

And so, what shall any of us do with this dilemma?
Continue to live, believing something kinder awaits us?
Love . . . even though these embers will die one day?
Yes, and forgive . . .
Let us not cling to the suffering
Love . . . while this moment is ours to live.
Love . . . even though we may never unravel its mystery.

Joanne Cucinello   

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Suzie’s Sister Blue





And she came forth on this
new day
wearing bows in her hair
and bells on her ankles
proclaiming a word . . .
that was simply a lie,
and I believed her . . . .
not because it sounded true
but just because
I remembered
long ago
how much I loved
to hear those bells
and see her smile
and tie the
ribbons round
her curls
and think that she
was mine.

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Conspiracy Theory




There is a conspiracy
dark and insidious
creeping on its belly
through the loins of
humanity.

We cannot touch it
with our hands
or see it
with our eyes
but anyone who breathes
must surely smell it
by now.

Can you feel the tentacles
reaching out for our innocent children
stealing their childhood with dark intentions?

Is it still allowed to be a "carefree little kid"?
Do we push and push until their hearts give up?

Are we listening anymore
or just trying to keep our children busy?

Has anyone figured out why ADD is a growing issue?
Attention Deficit Disorder = not enough attention.

Can we still make time to hold
their faces and smile in their eyes
to be truly there for them
when all else is crumbling away
and nothing makes sense or has value anymore?

Are we going to fight these demons
or let them abduct our offspring
and take them into cyberspace for good?

Joanne Cucinello

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Possession



Some people are so frightful or evil-minded, beyond all reasoning, that we might think they are possessed by demons.  It’s hard to imagine. But I have seen a different “Possession” take place in these last months, days and hours of my husband’s life.
I must tell you. . . if you’re willing to listen with your heart, that there are people, so wide-open to goodness, that they’ve unknowingly allowed an Angel to step inside their bodies now and then, and use them on earth’s plane, to do unbelievable majestic acts of love.  They sometimes become Possessed by such love . . . even if only for a moment, but those moments are extraordinary, and remain alive in the hearts of those they’ve touched forever.
I have seen Doctors, Nurses, Technicians . . . “Strangers”, respond to my husband with such tenderness, kindness and a sudden “recognition” of his goodness . . . as if they knew they were supposed to, in some small way . . .  love this man.
And friends who’d call or write or walk through our door . . . to love him at just the right time, when he was beginning to see his body change and weaken so much~ that he was feeling quite unlovable.  These were friends who allowed the angels to hop inside and move them past their busy day, to bring some comfort to their slowly dying friend.
But then, there were my grown children and their partners, who for months and days on end, became so comfortable letting angels guide them, that they spent the last few days till his death, selflessly open to the point that they were shining . . . yes, SHINING! The love and care, which took every moment of those last few days and nights, the tenderness and dignity, the cleaning, changing sheets, administering medications every hour, taking turns by my side.  They were almost growing wings! They were so full of love for their Dad and for me~ there was no separation. We were bound together to let him safely leave with the angels, when that golden light left his eyes.  And they flew away so peacefully, his soul’s spirit wrapped in their wings.  The room was silent at 3:33 in the sunlit afternoon when he passed. . . and our hearts were finally lifted.  And that was our POSSESSION~

And the Two Became One




Oh, I knew it would happen one day
but I dreamed we’d die together, like Romeo and Juliette.
After all, . . . how could I live without you, my Romeo?

Yet here I am today . . . just Me, just One of us,
looking at pictures, the two of us together through the years,
remembering your eyes, your smile; wanting never to forget
your voice and how it sounded, when you spoke my name.

And I, so wanting to feel you again, like those times when
you’d playfully sneak up behind me at the kitchen sink.
You'd push my hair aside to plant your lips upon my neck with
kisses, so warmed by your breath, that I’d drop the soap and melt.

Oh God! I was so in love with you!
All these years!  

How do I start to live without you?

How do I become just Me?

Joanne  2018


Wednesday, March 7, 2018

White Feathers


Related image
I dreamt of a great Storm once.  It rained and snowed for days, and we were housebound, thinking it would never cease.  However, as it began to end, there came strange winds, swirling feathers, white feathers, like the ones from an Angel’s wings.  And they nestled on our house, like a huge white dove, spreading its wings and resting, waiting to take flight again, waiting it seemed, for someone to climb the roof, mount its back and fly.  Was it a vision of the future.  . . for now?

Has it come for my Beloved? Will it stay on our rooftop, patient, cooing, waiting for the sign to come from Heaven? Will the Lord send his whistle in the wind, a note to ring clear and call my Love back to the stars and his home?  And will he rise free from fear and mount the Dove for that glorious ride, knowing all will be good and safe . . . arriving at last to where he came from, knowing I will be joining him soon . . . when White Feathers come to rest again?

Saturday, February 17, 2018

Me Today ~ January 22, 2018




I can’t write anymore. Trying to . . . is like putting an empty pot into the oven, nothing to cook . . . empty, stuck and fearful to know what the filled pot would look like.  I am resisting, walking up to the altar and quickly turning away, as if I never came down the aisle.  Even now, as I write, my heart is beginning to race.  I’m standing on the threshold, a deep crevice in my body’s earth.  Holding onto a wild horse’s mane, running wild, never stopping, no destination in sight . . . except death.  Almost two years since your diagnosis, and you seemed fine, normal, no pain . . . nothing different except not eating very much, not very hungry, but nothing severe . . . some weight loss, but you could afford it back then.

When we heard the words slip through the Doctor’s teeth . . . “Fourth Stage Liver Cancer! Do you have an Oncologist?  Need to see one immediately!”  Stunned is a gentle description of the double whammy that punched a hole in our stomachs and made our heads start pounding as if we’d been in a crash.  “What? What are you saying? What do we do? Who do we see? What’s going to happen to my husband, the love of my life?  Do we put on some armor, polish the swords, get ready to fight? Fight the hardest fight of our lives!  Will the treatments change him . . make him sick, weak, lost and close to death . . . this Man of mine, who seemed happy and fine, so full of life and affection . . . my Lover, my dearest Friend?"

 What horrible road have we taken you on . . . this Golgotha? And no matter how hard I’m trying . . . to keep you alive . . . I feel so insignificant in the face of your great suffering now.  This cross is hard, so hard to help you carry up that hill.
You’ve conquered many demons in your life, overcome difficult illnesses and heartaches. . . but this one is testing you, testing me, to the point of no return at times.  Stay strong, my Love.  Keep fighting the fight, and know I’m here beside you always. 

What if another Miracle is just waiting to happen, like all the others?  What if we walked together to top of that fearful hill and found the Cross had disappeared?  Then we could roll down in the green grass instead . . . and make love once again.

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

We Are Dancing the Dance



Here we are now ~ trying to feel the music
trying to find the steps we took so long ago
and that song . . . what was it?

Can’t remember . . . just your arms
around me strong and tender . . . tender still
but strong, my Love, no more.

It is me who’s holding You now
and a new song is playing
teaching us a different dance
moves and turns so unfamiliar

We never saw it coming, did we?
And all the while a storm was brewing
off the coast of Forever ~ whispering our names
warning us to put up the shutters and get ready

Your beautiful eyes are tired now
your limbs so weak, and yet
you smile at me still, with your precious heart
and we’ll hold each other and dance this dance
until one day the music ends.


Joanne Cucinello  2017

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Life Is Love


 Life is so fragile
we are all waiting to be born
and held forever
in the palm of God

Life is so beautiful
we've been given a heart
that keeps the beat
for all who've come before
and all who have been promised

Life is so magnetic
 attracting, holding fast
the good and bad of humankind
the very best and worst of us

Life is purely gift
forgiving one creation, leaping to another
to please the smiling God whose
only dream is love.



Joanne Cucinello

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Moonlight Praise

O Beauty
that lights the midnight sky,
how faithfully you wax and wane.
I am but one seed sprouted in time
Caught, like those before me,
in the rays of your glowing splendor.
Your rhythm flows through my veins
and all life responds with heartbeat
to your magnetic pull.
You rule the ebb and flow of ancient waters.
All emotions and cycles, comings and goings,
even our dying and our being born,
these things await your perfect timing.

 O Moon,
You have lived in our consciousness
Since our first awakening,
Created to be our gift and comfort,
our promise of the morning sun.
Even as Eve first stepped beyond the Gate
that night in lonely silence,
you were there to shine on Adam’s path
and teach the rhythms of your ever-changing face.
They watched the heavens,
awaiting your return each month
and marked the days of your growing brightness
to light the path for the hunt and their returning
journeys home.

 Your cycle echoes that of our own,
from the darkness of our mother’s womb
Into the dawning of our life.
We travel toward the brightness of our days
and in time fade like summer’s bloom,
back to the dust of our beginnings.

 O glorious faithful Moon,
who signs our destiny and bows before the Sun,
remind us always of our God,
In all life’s changes,
and in all your dances with the stars . . .
For we, like you . . . are made to shine,
each a spark of that One Eternal Light.


Joanne Cucinello
2000

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Rim of Gold (revised)

                                                                 

At the edge of my body lies a rim of gold.
I am encased in light and alive within my soul ~
my soul that holds me close and remembers who I am.

My feet may touch the earth, but the crown
of my head points to where I came from.
I am here to learn from this beautiful earth
and from those who walk beside me. And as I do,
the sky receives the rays of my eternal soul ~
the Thread of my Connection.

When I leave this place, I will shed my skin like an overcoat,
my bones will turn to ash, but I will step out into forever
with all my colors shining, and my true heart ablaze
and ready for the ride back home.

There they will know me, and greet me like a new born child
arrived with gifts wrapped in my swaddling clothes
and I will hand them all the earthly pearls
God’s blessed grace bestowed.



Joanne Cucinello   2017
                                                               

Saturday, June 17, 2017

I Dreamed a Dream


Image result for brooklyn ny streets
I dreamed a dream that took me home to Brooklyn and the home I loved on Linden Street.  You know how dreams are.   Back and forth I traveled in time, colors dark and light, swirling.  A brown wood door stood closed before me and I knocked, listening for feet. They came to the other side shuffling.

A woman, my aunt, old and white haired now, turned the knob and opened it, and I saw a golden light stream into the room and fill it.  I told her I was to meet my Mother here.  She said she'd come at four this afternoon.  All of them, my mother's sisters, were sitting on kitchen chairs shaking their heads and wiping their eyes, saying to each other . . . "She's not coming, poor thing, she never should have said that."

My heart began to sink, another lie, just keep pretending. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw another room, dimly lit and a bed with a worn suitcase on it, opened and strewn with clothes.  There she stood, my Mother, still in her coat and frailer than I remembered.  My Mother, tear stained and seemingly afraid to come to me.  Oh, I was so happy and relieved!

"Mommy!" I cried, and ran to her like a little girl again, wrapping my arms around her saying how much I loved her and missed her for so long.  She held me too and I could feel her hair against my cheek.  The whole room began to fill with that golden light.
She kissed my face all over, just the way she always did when I was small, and she smiled that smile I've waited to see again . . . for all my life.  My gift, my answered prayer . . . She was waiting for me there, and all I had to do was knock.

Joanne Cucinello  2014


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