Poetry is the most precise form of expression that language has given me, when emotions find words.
After days of rain, the sun decides to shine
for my father
Master of the tightrope, my father, Barber in a tiny Swiss village,
where even dreaming had its limits.
His smile had no sound but meant everything.
Still does. Always will.
His unspoken words only I can hear.
His pain with its eerie silence.
I pretend to possibly understand the depth of my dad, carved into my soul;
I remain mesmerized.
The majestic Alps hidden behind angry clouds
soaring – close to heaven.
On the edge of the gray lake I know can be blue,
a watery gleam of sunshine – a faint outline of snow high up,
my heart skips a beat.
The power of light shining on pure white,
on a mountain, my father’s mountain, a giant called Titlis.
The clearing like an opening of the sky,
as I listen to the past,
pockets of paradise ignite the cloudy sky, Tädi, smiling from Heaven.
The morning sun holding a memory locked in my heart.
A sight, rare because of rain for days, clouds, mysterious fog,
Mein Vater, as big as life.
The irreversible loss of the past illuminates his mountain,
aware of his presence, remembrances from long ago not necessarily as they were.
I feel his eyes and soul watching me,
until, at last,
I am beyond his range of vision, not his wisdom.
A moment in time in a glamorous hotel on Lake Lucerne,
on a slippery balcony on the fourth floor,
a vision leaves me crying behind my hand.
The mountain he climbed and conquered as a young man during the War.
Sunshine . . . what a magical, spiritual source.
I started writing late in life.
In 2008, I wrote my first poem, “The Dog That Could Not Walk”
It won 1st prize, twice. Tennessee’s Poetry Society contest and in Chicago, at Dream Quest, prize $250.00, and, second place in a National contest in California.
Writing is essential to my existence in a life filled with emotions where my passionate mind believes in the power of words . . .
Swiss born, I arrived in New York alone, speaking and understanding little English. I was 23. I waited eleven months for a green card, an American working visa.
I live in Scottsdale, AZ with my husband. I am a successful retired hair designer.
Writing has become my American life since 9/11 when I wrote my first story: “The Power of Prayer” that was chosen to be published by Goose River Press.
I write in my second language. Never in my native German.
“We all harbor dreams of greatness . . . the size will be measured by our memories.” Unknown.
The dynamics of my writing world include: Published in four Goose River Anthology’s 2014 – 2017, available on Amazon or Goose River Press, Waldoboro Maine.
Loose Mousse Publishing, ABSOLOOSE volume 1 and 2.
Winnings of Poetry and Writing contests and, my great love for Soccer the world calls Football: Articles published, even in USA Today’s Sports section.
“Creative nonfiction is not making something up but making the most of what you have.” John Mc. Phee