Skip to main content

THE VASE by Krista Katrovas

I’m missing her: my cousin. She's been gone since 1987, and still I miss her...

As I walked tonight in my neighborhood, on a summer day, like those I remember playing with my cousin, catching lightning bugs, I felt a wave of loneliness.

 In the later evening, I held the vase and felt the spirit of her living on through a creation by her. It might as well be an urn. But it's comforting to have even after all these years. 

The Vase

I hold the vase you made,
cream colored with daisies
and butterflies, indentions
you carved into wet clay.
I cup it gingerly,
possibly the last thing you created,
before giving it away.
Killed in 1987, 
my best friend, cousin,
only one year younger than me,
I walk through life
missing you,
searching for my
best female friend,
yet always feeling left alone.
We wore one another’s shoes,
switching one for the other,
wearing mismatch,
feeling completed by the exchange,
knowing no matter where we were
we were walking in one another’s shoes.
Like those half golden heart charms
girls wore back then
around their necks,
with, “Best,” written on one half,
“Friend,” on the other,
completed only when together.
We exchanged
a half a pair of shoes,
because we were too poor for hearts.
Your initials, “K.G.,”
carved by maybe a pen,
or the tip of an unwound paperclip
etched on the bottom of your vase,
is the only tangible thing I have of you,
as I sit panging
within my memories of you, us.
I search through life,
for a life girlfriend
to fill this void,
while holding your empty vase,
knowing that butterflies
are soul birds
and that maybe your young heart
knew this before me somehow,
and why you left them 
and my favorite flower,
daisies, behind for me.

Krista Katrovas (E-RYT) has dedicated herself to the practice, study and teaching of yoga since discovering it in 1999 after dancing rigorously as a dance major in college. Krista has had scores of articles on Yoga, Wellness, and Spirituality published in nationally regulated magazines. She has a regular column at Elephant Journal here. She has taught Yoga in Prague every July since 2009 and has been sought to teach in Kuwait, Canada, Virginia, California, Kentucky, and Florida. She calls Kalamazoo, Michigan home, where she teaches Yoga, Meditation, offers Spiritual guidance, and practices Shamanism. She has cats, though also loves dogs, all animals. Her power animal is the Snowy Owl. Visit her yoga website here.

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~  


Popular posts from this blog

MY HEART SEEPS by Edith Lazenby

Courage is not only facing fear, but also looking past fear, to see what lies it tells and truths it saves...
Sometimes I sit at a computer in trepidation. The house trembles and I wonder what I will find. 
Truth is not a fact or a feeling. It may rest on love’s heart and walk with integrity. It may stand beyond humanity in ways we can only imagine. Truth can be solid as earth and fickle as wind. But a wind can know stillness and the earth can crack wide open.
Tonight I found a stillness in a crack and managed to balance there...

My Heart Seeps
by Edith Lazenby
I cannot hold on And I cannot let go. I walk a path I don’t know. I feel moonlight But cannot see Its orb midst The cloudy cold. My hands tremble. My eyes tear. My toes wriggle To grasp earth. I want to stand Tall in the light Yet fear shadows all. Inside I crumble Under the weight I cannot shoulder.

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…

DEPRESSION by Veronica Carpenter

Here goes my vulnerability A heart on a sleeve The typical person who looks at me May not see the same me that I live with daily The mind in the air, swirling with possibility When the darkness rallies/gathers/swirls When I am left to solitude This paper-thin garb unzips Here comes depression          
No I don’t want to advertise So flash a smile Those who are close get to see Through the veil, it’s really not that thick Circumstances in life like to stab at the rib Stumble, fall behind the door Shut out the world Feelings well and weigh down Strength hidden deep in the core So deep that sometimes it’s forgotten Here comes the darkness My old friend Sweeping through my every move  Doubts, fears, un-named masked men Oozing like honey, sticking to everything
Patience is required to get on this ride There is a cycle but its pattern is unknown Slowly my gift will unwrap itself Stay on the path Coming back to that which never truly left me Just laid sleeping out of exhaustion from the fight Dormant in winter…