my winter retreat was lonely
flurries turned into storms
dark skies seemed always
cold bit me every second
ice through my veins stiffened from life
sharpen gales to cut me away
I was polar from everything
sitting barren
until her voice
her light
all that warmth from beyond
chiselled me free of that void capsule
I am her sun
she is my days
when the blueberries come back…so do you
we’re together again
scraping and scrounging along the hillside
every three paces we fill our cups
the colour blue today is for happiness
its sweet taste…a reminder of your touch
as I hold a few on the day they first appear
the air is the same chill
trees with the same tinge of change
cloud shadows still pass over me like they did
I see them at my feet
I am seven again
catching up with your pace
as my bucket spills over
on blueberry hill
When I was a young boy, my grandmother would always tell me that I was bound for something great. Glimpses of me behind a desk somewhere with a pen and paper. No more substance than that. Just that nothing else would fit what mould she had envisioned for me. She would tell me this with a smile and pride in her voice. It would instantly make me smile too. But, for years I wondered what that meant. Now, as a published poet and six years deep into my blog, Earth to Ash, amongst creating every single chance I get, this is what she had seen. This is what she knew was coming for me. A future with writing. Sharing my thoughts, feelings, and emotion to the world around me. Like I have said from the start. I don’t consider myself to be a great writer, but I am enjoying the journey of someday becoming one. And when I reach that goal, it will forever be because of Theresa Douglas. Nan/Mom, if only you could read those words you seeded inside this soul of mine that writes to connect forever with yours and the world can take a peek too. – Ash
I’m sorry you were alone when the faces drifted away.
When your days got stolen and good nights emptied.
Just a vessel that you God, abandoned.
Someone who gave up her soul before she was given one.
Where were you when she asked to remember?
Why did you punish her when all she did was repeat your name in prayer?
Lord, her story deserved a better ending.
At least, you could have allowed her to say goodbye to her favourite characters.
But, I bet she forgave you too, after paying a toll at the gate.
Not for herself…
…for me.
Hey everybody,
Hope you’re having an awesome day!
Every picture tells a story or is a key to one. – Ash
Whenever I see a pile of wood by the side of the road or in someone’s front yard, it instantly takes me back to when I was kid. I believe I was around ten years old. Back that humbling day when I tried to prove to my Uncles that I was just as big and tough as they were. A coming of age moment of my life with a Shade of Ash humour that I will never forget. A bunch of wood grouped together sets the scene and some of you already know this, but I grew up with my grandparents, so my Uncles are like my brothers. There’s five of them. I made six, and the youngest in that dynamic and because of that, I was considered “Mommy’s Boy”. *I called my grandmother, Mom, by the way.
OK, Cue the wavey time-travel lines, fade to the 80’s.
Firewood was a primary source of heat for us growing up, so from time to time, that meant the whole family would have to pitch in and help bring freshly cut wood from my grandfather’s boat up to the front yard to be packed and stacked. Every now and again, my grandfather accompanied by two or three of the Uncles would travel by boat to some remote area to cut down the wood. Then, once they had a load, they would return home where the wood still had to be sawed up and stored away. None of that process involved me though. I got off the hook for stuff like that. Hey! It’s not me, my grandmother just wouldn’t have it back then. She’d look at my Uncles, each of them, and tell them to go on outside and not bother me. “Leave Ashley alone, he’s alright, go on, your fathers waiting.” She’d say. This rotted my uncles of course. Now, they wouldn’t say much in retort and just went on to work. Though like prisoners knowing all the blind spots of a prison yard, they too knew when to get in a few licks and wrestling moves behind my grandparents backs to make sure I knew what’s up. Until that one day, where I had enough of it.
Hey everybody,
I hope you’re all doing well.
Next up… I delve into uncharted territory with the below prompt with special guest, God. So, without further adieu, let’s see what we got.
Do you still have the same religious beliefs that you had as a child? If so, why? If not, how and why did they change?
I could take that question in a couple directions, but I think I might just go with the general topic of ‘religion and faith and me’. Though, I may end up answering the questions above anyway, we’ll see. Let me stretch my fingers and see where it takes me. I’ve played with the idea of making a post with faith as the main topic before, looks as if my new prompt category will finally get it out me. Actually, there’s been a few situations in my life recently that have also made me think about religion more than I have ever have in years. Another reason I felt this prompt was interesting enough to explore.
Continue reading “A Shade of Ash # 3 – (Altared Youth)”
Hey Everyone,
It’s National Indigenous Peoples Day here in Canada, and given that I’m 3rd generation myself, I am dedicating today’s entry to my grandmother. She was Mi’kmaw, and a member of the Miawpukek First Nation. I’m currently a voting member of the reservation band council and have been for many years now.
Continue reading “Happy National Indigenous Peoples Day!!!”
“There’s not a day that I don’t thank the Lord for…so far, so good I suppose”
– Theresa Douglas
Earth To Ash 