Note by the Sugar Bowl

If I had to leave a note

by the sugar bowl
on the kitchen table
and that is all I could tell
anyone about life
before I left,
what would I say?

As if the pen in my hand
began to write
beyond my thoughts
beyond any part of the me
that looks in a mirror
like a breeze through
an open window
came the words
"Learn how to love"

It's the most important thing
you'll ever do
It will make your
heart sing
It will break it
wide open

It will take you
to the mountain top
and bring you
to your knees

It's the only thing
worth living for

It is more than
romance
It is answering a
baby's cry
in the middle of the night

Days of silence
and misunderstandings
It is steadfast and certain
even if we aren't

When all else fails
turn within
to your proverbial heart
and seek it

It is always there
sometimes wrapped
in blankets
sometimes surrounded
by brick walls

One brick at a time
open up
and love will come
spilling forth
running over

And you will be alive
more alive than you
can imagine

Yes, if I could leave one
small note
one small bit of hope
It would read,
"Learn how to love"

cDeby White Jizi  2013

Beach Comber

I walk the beach

looking down

My focus so keen

oblivious to anything

except what lies

near my feet

I'm looking for shells

mother of pearl

little treasures of the sea

I find more

an apple core

a gummy bear

and what looks like 

a whole jar of 

maraschino cherries

dumped and now

being washed to and

fro with the incoming tide

I find my treasures

Occasionally I look up

and startled

I'm back in a noisy world of

families by the sea

An Indian traveler

who is wearing men's underwear

as a bathing suit

I wonder if he knows this

He poses for a picture

taken by his friend who is

fully clothed

A fair-skinned baby

toddles toward the waves

a thousand watchful eyes

could not protect her

like the mother who

scoops her up

The sun is setting low

on the horizon

the air is cooler

My fist is full of shiny gems

Back to the world

to the squeals of children

splashing in tidal pools

I pick up a discarded can

of ginger ale and

put it in the trash

filled with broken chairs, 

umbrellas and floats, that 

have lost their ability 

hold air

I walk home happy.

cDeby White Jizi  2013

Chilly November Days

Sun shines
at a piercing angle,
blinding bright
Trees flash
oranges, reds, yellows

Parents rake leaves into piles
while children dive in them
Laughter fills crisp air
hair stands on end

The dog barks in
protest and play
tail wagging as
leaves fly in the breeze

The pile is gone now
rake and laborers
begin again, smiling
Knowing this dance
could go on
all afternoon

The sun fades
lights from the warm house
beckon us to dinner
cold hands and noses
protest going inside

Just a little longer
but there's homework to do
a warm meal waiting
Before we know it
the sun is gone

All around
mothers call children
to dinner
Another day has passed,
not one minute
of Autumn
wasted

cDeby White Jizi  2009

Betrayed

I knew she would believe me
and not you.
To save myself I did it.
So young to feel within me
that your skin would fail you-
but not fail me.

I liked you,
but I feared her more.
When you told her what I did,
she asked me
with that gleam of disbelief
in her eye.

I saw an opening,
and I took it,
but not without sorrow.

When I looked at you,
I could see your hurt
at me
at the way the world
heaped itself unfairly on your
shoulders
at your lost faith
in people

At six, I had done that.
Lied to save myself.
I wish you had understood,
and maybe you did.
Mary, I was wrong-forgive me.

cDeby White Jizi 2009

In Mommy's Arms- a Lullaby

In Mommy's arms

sleep in peace
inside soft fleece,
safe,
warm,
in Mommy's arms.

Birds and babies
cozy in the nest
bunnies slumber
as night brings rest
snuggled close to
momma bird's breast

Fireflies light and
crickets sing
stars and moon
look after you

all is well
all is warm
baby's love
in Mommy's arms

cDeby White Jizi 2013

Knowing

Sitting in the shade, I am cold.
The sun is over there.
All I have to do is move,
but I don't.

c DebyWhite Jizi  2013

Cleaning My Closet

I was given a broom

and told
go clean your closet
but
I could not focus
upon
the task at hand

What about the world?
All that suffering?
What am I to do about it all?

So I sat down
broom in hand
and suffered too-
my closet
left untouched

Tasting my salty tears
I realized
My suffering
my sadness
did not help
the suffering of the world

Drying my eyes
I picked up the broom
and began
to sweep
in one small corner


cDeby White Jizi 2011