Sonnet for a Long Winter

photoart: sharon auberle

Sonnet for a Long Winter

by Christine Swanberg

The long winter procrastinates this year

like a difficult decision. To stay

or leave? The voice is not so crystal clear.

Is it a groove or rut we must obey

when all our senses stick like ice dams clogged

with winter inertia within our veins?

O, if only our minds could be de-fogged.

O, if only we could release the chains

that bind us to a life lived under par.

See how the crocus finally fights through soil

hard and cold? Such icy courage goes far

and yet comes so naturally without toil.

Perhaps the answer lies in staying still,

flowing with the force, let come what will.

~ first published in the Rock River Times

Point of Departure

photo: ralph murre

Point of Departure

by Christine Swanberg

When the last train trembles

              silent in its tracks

and the telephone’s ring becomes

              its whistle

or a lone gull’s cry

                                         go

where you can be smaller

              than a hummingbird’s egg,

or where you can dance

              anonymous in purple socks.

Wear a cape with stars sewn on,

              a periwinkle ascot

and unbecoming bi-focals. In fact,

              unbecome altogether.

                                       Unbecome

the brown and black jackets

              hung straight

these  working years. Unbecome

              your dreams of pencils,

black coffee, tests already passed.

Let loose

            the leather leash of approval.

Bark at anyone

             who insists you heel.

                                         Bite

the hand that feeds you.

~ First published in WIND

Everything You Ever Wanted

digital art: sharon auberle

Everything You Ever Wanted

by Christine Swanberg

One day you may wake up to find

you have everything you need.

What, then, is

 this stirring inside you?

Perhaps, like the Dalai Lama,

your soul is gathering forces

for its next incarnation,

or maybe the urge to refine

right here,

right now,

manifests on this good planet.

Could be you are part

of a windy current

flying above the jet streams to nirvana,

or another current

has simply sent you skating

past a sociological dream

into a post-consumer world.

I read once that the Danish

are the happiest people in the world.

They live in a dark climate

eclipsed by winter.

They ride bicycles

and eat lots of ice-cream,

have less sex and suicide

than the Swedes.

They have less divorce, violence,

use of guns, anti-depressants, locks,

and religion than we do.

They have higher taxes,

and socialized medicine,

They are not gobbling up the earth

or each other.

One day they woke up

to find

                        they have everything

that they ever wanted.

~ first published in SOUNDINGS

CHEATING GRIEF

photoart: ralph murre

Cheating Grief
by Christine Swanberg

Should you find yourself un-sprung
by grief, like cranking gears
of the old grandfather clock
you must rewind forward each half hour
no matter what the time,
know: You can’t cheat grief.
If so, you’d skip a chime,
which might end up as an extra heartbeat.
Yours. Plus-- you’d have to start again.

Once I tried to cheat grief
claiming to detach from it,
jetting off to the Big Sky
leaving grief at home on my pillow.
When I looked up at the Seurat sky,
I felt the dead I cherished,
wept mercilessly under the Milky Way,
each shooting star
someone I would never see again.

~ first published in The Alleluia Tree (Puddin’head Press)