We’re Closing Down Summer

I bought the mums 
and make plans for a plant that’s been outside. 

A man says, how are you young lady
I say alright
He says I’m working too hard— as he throws large logs on the ground— 
But I’ve got to heat the house for winter.

A woman crouches cleaning up her yard 
Soon her Halloween display will turn to Christmas. 

The crickets know what time it is as do the leaves—
ombré then a swath of color. 

I experience the closing down and I’m relieved 
The summer was hectic 
The heat horrendous 
I made it and wonder 
did I prep enough for winter? 

There’s still time. 

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

You Were a Deep Player

Back then you didn't take on the world's problems
You knew they were there
And set out your worry dolls down on your windowsill at night
Sometimes you were visited by an elf 
Who squeezed your hand tight and 
Told you bad things. 

But you also played

It settled you
At day you explored and refined 
At night the worries surfaced 
And you knew what to do. 

If life is about balance for you
Where is the play now? 


~Nikki, The Soul Reporter
Photo Source: https://www.wiscnews.com/opinion/columnists/stellpflug-column-worry-dolls-are-for-everyone/article_65717998-8115-5936-b473-d9e47df9290d.html

Stains on Streets

Why do I suddenly care about the origins of stains on streets? 
Can't be water— the sun would scorch it and they would disappear. 

Am I poet like the dream-teller told me? 
I don't know how to write poetry. 
Is this it? 
Does it matter? 

Does it matter where the stains on streets come from? 
Just tells me there was life. 



Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Chicken

Together we play a game of chicken
Russian roulette even—
eventually the bullet kills us
Moth to flame—you say it all the time—
eventually we burn
Bait-and-switch—what are we selling that we won't be giving

Game of Chicken
Your freedom or mine
Certainly not ours together

You go your way
I go mine
Now we collide
Toward death or to freedom
Or are they the same

What gives and when
We are at the edge
Which one of us will swerve
Or will we, at the end?

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Everything

It’s everything that I love 
Right here in the middle of these trees on a path full of mulch

The sound of crows above me
A light mist falling upon me
The sound of day crickets in august at ear level
A cool breeze through warm moist air
A slate gray sky

I stand still in it and ask for guidance as I sometimes dolately: what is here for me to know?

I open my eyes and everything that I love is right here.

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Evolution

Evolution moves slow and steady. 

I once believed I could clear wounds enough to transcend my upbringing—
To not be my mother. 

What cleared are protections that made me function and survive. 

My daughter said to me: I like seeing you struggle—
A once controlled and efficient mother now stumbles a bit. 

Bring on the staggering
And the unease of failing
And seeing the apple does not fall far from the tree. 

It is true some improvements were made
Maybe I'll see more as I age
But for now I acknowledge evolution is slow
And at least it is steady. 

For we are not efficient machines
We are human with hearts and needs
We store treasures from ancestors and thieves. 

Keep going. 


~Nikki, The Soul Reporter 

Devotion

What’s underneath this madness? Devotion?

I cant see a future without him now that I’m standing at our death door. It was fun to play with the idea of leaving when I was still in a familiar hallway.

Now I am numb again. Familiar only to my pain, and not ours.

But it will return.

Rumi says, keep digging your well, water is there somewhere.

Is it devotion?

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Indestructible

I wake up wrapped in a hidden grief. A grief so big I’m grateful it’s hidden. The personal losses and changes, along with the national and global might take lifetimes to process and who even knows what is left over from other lives. It truly does seem to be too much and yet, here we are, here I am, here is Life- an undeniable and indestructible force.

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter

Closing the Doors

Might as well find the joy while the world burns, right?

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I am shutting the doors, I have decided, to where the trauma lives.

I am not shutting the door because I want to avoid what is there.

I am shutting the door because for 30+ years all I have done is open these doors.

Within the rooms I have explored, processed, dug deep and long.

There has been healing and transformation. Incredible insights and connections made.

There has also been torment.

So today I messaged the therapists and the energy workers and said, thank you and goodbye.

I want to enjoy my life for a change, I said. I want to hear my inner voice again.

I have seen hell, so may as well turn around and see what else there is.

~Nikki, The Soul Reporter