Six Year Anniversary

wordpress6yrs

 

So … the above just appeared in my notifications.

I stared at it a moment. Because, you see, I would’ve thought it was longer than six years. I also would’ve thought it couldn’t possibly have been six years already … Yet, there it is. Time doing the odd thing it knows to do as it spirals around.

Can’t ever hold on to time. It is a slippery thing, it is. Can hardly hold on to stats, seeing how they dance around. It is folly to try.

But I thought I would, anyhow, just for fun, post a snapshot of this moment in time. Even if it will change as soon as I post this, as soon as you see this, as soon as any one of you reacts or comments or clicks on this.

Still. Just because …

Here are a few stats:

  • 1681 posts
  • 5922 comments
  • 115,515 views
  • 72,111 visitors from practically every country in the world!
  • 23,743 likes
  • 921 followers

By the time your eyes rest on this, the numbers are already different … The values are not … Because the numbers have little meaning. Many blogs have more than this a day. Many more still have less. What does matter, to me, is you. That you read this. That you are part of this. That you matter. That you are you. You made this. With me.

I am especially moved that this little tiny sliver of a blog in the big vast space of the Internet, has had visitors from every corner of the globe. From countries large and small, from the smallest islands to the largest landmasses, from a multitude of cultures and languages and ways of life, from countries that we’re supposed to believe don’t get along, or won’t, or don’t care.

This is proof we do. Care. Because we are first and foremost humans. No matter where we were born, under what flag, to what faith or belief or upbringing, in what skin, to what family, to which doctrine. We all share this one home. We’re roommates on a blue marble hurtling through space. Equally precious. Equally worthy. We all are made of the same atoms. We breathe the same air. Drink the same water. Are tethered to the same core gravity. The same moon. Under the same sun. In the same cluster of souls riding the great vastness of Space.

So, you see, to me this little corner of the Internet — along with many others like it — is a window to our universality. To what we can be if we so choose. I’m honored. I’m humbled. I’m grateful to have the opportunity see through this window, through others’ windows, to have others look in through mine. To share light.

So, in this moment, and every moment, know that I am deeply thankful.

For you. For each and every one.

And I’m hopeful that we can, together … read more, write more, see more, share more, listen more, understand more, be more, be kind.

 

 

Embers Of Dreams

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Photo: Pablo Martinez on Unsplash

 

Blow gently into the embers

Of

Your dreams.

So the quiet flames

Of what you’d always wished

And perhaps did not know how

To do

Can lick them into hope

Anew.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Anew in 31 words

 

 

Frozen

cold AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

 

Inside the core of frozen

Lore

There beats a tender

Heart.

Beneath the glaciers of

Dearth

Unfurl forgotten

Paths.

Amidst the howling winds of

Cold

Whispers bid to

Start,

And feed the seed ‘neath Tundra’s

Soul

Awaiting summer’s

Part.

 

 

Note: just the other day, I watched parts of the movie “Frozen” (the first one) with a young child, in preparation for that child’s going to the movies with friends to see “Frozen 2.” Now I have an ear-worm and am yet to “let it go” … 😉

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS and JusJoJan challenges: Movie title

 

 

Allegiance

Photo: Sue Vincent

 

They called her Allegiance.

Contract and insurance, she was. Revered and guarded, both.

So well revered and so well guarded, in fact, that with time she became almost forgotten and had turned more a symbol than a soul. She sometimes wondered if she was in that way not too dissimilar to many of her kind through time, even if they had been so for far shorter spans.

Women often were made ornamental. Used as symbolic pawns, utilized as cementers of allegiances, then blamed for those that broke.

It helped her feel less lonely, knowing that even in her immortal isolation she was still in some way a member of a community of others who’d been perched into positions, as she was, without much of a choice. Possessions and producers, keepers of the continuity of power, serfdom and thrones.

They called her Allegiance.

And she sat in her fortified tower, aware of the two rows of guards: One row looking out against any who may get it in their minds to sabotage, the other row looking in against any indication that she may get it in hers to leave.

They needn’t have worried. At least not about her.

There was enough of misery without adding heads to spikes in any kind of rebellion, where those most likely to be harmed were those least likely to have been given part in the decision.

She accepted her place. A figurehead to keep the heads of others firmly on their shoulders and their children’s hearts safer from the sorrows of orphanage and war.

So she stayed.

As centuries passed, those who’d placed her there took less care with guarding her and the promises she’d represented. The tower crumbled. The guards played cards and drank and slept and grew lazy, and she took comfort in knowing that at least this meant they weren’t in battle. Even if she shivered, windowless, her walls crumbling all around.

Perhaps, she thought, as winds whistled and the stories of her had become lore printed onto metal plaques for tourists to ignore, it was all as it should be.

Perhaps one day there will not be a need.

Perhaps one day allegiances will be built-in, rather than built-up and set with guarded fences that time and lassitude and apathy were certain to erode.

Till then, Allegiance waited.

For the moment, the ruins of her tower stood.

 

 

For Sue Vincent’s WritePhoto

 

 

Eden In A Bubble

Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll

 

They were going to have to move.

Her health. His job.

They were going to miss so many things.

The beach. Their yard. The hours spent outdoors.

He laid in bed at night, awake. Her breath gentle at his side.

She would not complain. Even if she could still speak, he knew she wouldn’t put that burden on him. It broke his heart.

He put the shards into action. Poured his mind into design.

He’d build a bubble. An Eden in the forbidding landlocked wintry ground. A lush oasis where they could both breathe in the memories of better times.

 

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

One Month

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Photo: Jim DiGritz on Unsplash

 

 

She looked him

In the eyes, and saw

A face that tells

Of life and memory

And all the small and

Infinitely scarring

Stories of what he’d done

Because he had to

Even when it wasn’t

What he’d wanted, but

What was necessary to have

Done.

The difficult

Choices.

The privations.

The loss made in

Acceptance of the compass

Of the heart and

Mind.

His was a trustworthy face.

Plowed by honest work

And resigned to

Sacrifice.

One month

May prove to be

Not nearly long

Enough.

 

 

Last lines quote used as inspiration for this challenge:

“I looked him in the eyes at last. They were sunken and soulful, and often carried dark circles under them. The man had a trustworthy face.

‘A month?’

‘That’s all. One month.'”

(“Girl Waits With Gun by Amy Stewart)

 

 

For the dVerse Poetics Last Lines challenge

 

The Gazelle

Cheeky Deer AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

She has come to inspect

The tent

The snacks

The gear

The rest.

A gazelle

Wearing smiles

And she’ll stay

For a

While.

Entertainment

It seems

Can be found

On a whim.

 

 

 

For the Word of the Day Challenge: Gazelle

 

Sisters Of This Earth And Sky

Friendship Craft DiklaNachmias

Photo: Dikla Nachmias

 

Ladies of the borrowed time,

Mistresses of undemanding,

Mothers bearing down the twine

To faithful understanding,

Sisters of this Earth and sky,

Daughters threading needles of

Life verifying,

Girls who hearts ignore —

I hear you roar.

Do know:

Together we’ll weave words

From crying.

 

 

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: roar

 

 

 

On Guard!

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“How long will he be this way?”

“Dunnow,” Plucky shrugged. “But let’s get this done before he loses concentration.”

“I wanna waive something in front of his eyes. He looks so hypnotized!” Shimmer shifted excitedly from foot to foot. This was so thrilling!

“Don’t you dare!” Plucky’s hiss almost made actual sound. He bobbed his head in an effort to contain it. “Let’s get to it! Blue is good but even he can’t keep this up forever.”

Shimmer nodded distractedly.

“Coming or I go it alone?”

“Coming, coming…” Shimmer nodded and sighed in one. She didn’t want to miss anything. She wanted to see everything! She wished she could be in two places at the same time. She tore her eyes off of the dog, whose nose barely twitched and whose eyes never left the cockroach that was held in the blue-gray pigeon’s beak, just out of the canine’s reach. Blue was so courageous!

Plucky was already on the move. Shimmer stepped behind the brown bird’s sparse tail feathers, trembling with suppressed flutter. This was her first heist.

The window was open. The dog had forgotten a biscuit on his cushions. They were going to sneak into the room and steal it.

 

 

For Keith’s Kreative Kue #245

 

Wingspan

 

“I will not have everyone out in the cold!” Mrs. M’s hands were planted firmly on her hips, and when Mrs. M’s hands were firmly on her hips, any who knew what was good for them knew to nod submissively, back up slowly, and give up.

Not Tim.

Sometimes I wondered if he had no survival reflexes or if he confronted the headmistress exactly because he didn’t care to survive.

“We don’t have to be out, out,” he argued.

Mrs. M’s cheek twitched. Oh-oh.

I backed up just in case. If she reached for the switch it would be best to not remain within wingspan.

“We can use the hot-house,” he pressed. “Sunlight and no wind. We’ll be fine.”

The twitch stopped. I held my breath.

“Most panes are intact.”

Mrs. M nodded.

I gaped.

Tim won.

Cramped orphanage or not, he found a way for outdoor play in wintertime!

 

 

 

For Crispina’s Crimsons Creative Challenge #61