Carole Smith

A work of Creative Non-Fiction Her eyes sprang open just as her body was shifting from her side to her back.  Her constant companion, physical discomfort, greeted her spine with a shock of rolling pain.  Is this all I have to look forward to in my life, she thought as her mind tried to clear away the dark dreams from the night. Pearl was seventy eight, and her second back surgery in a period of three short years was just nine months behind her.  A day without pain was something that didn’t even exist in her dreams anymore.  She shared her small townhouse with no other living thing; no person, no animal, no fish, no plant.  The only voice besides her own was from the TV and the occasional phone call.  Days would pass without the hopeful sound of a ring.  On more than one occasion, she would lift the receiver, not to make a call, but just to check for a dial tone.  Today was to be no different than any other day in Pearl’s life.  She would get up.  Open her blinds. 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven…” Ecclesiastes 3:1 While I Sit Trying to think muddy, murky, deep… in my mind, in my car, in my wait. So I sit. And I write.        And I sit. And I think. And I try. And I try. I try… to make it clear, that it’s the person out there… playing her soccer, kicking his kicks, flying his punches, shooting her hoops, that it’s for. Not my time. It’s her time. It’s his time. Its youth’s time. And that realization… Clears my mind. Stops the list. Warms my heart …while I sit. ~ Copyright © 2013 by Carole A. Smith

“I will extend peace to her like a river…” Isaiah 66:12 Peace like a river, Pour over me. Flowing, swirling, Bubbling, carrying, Pushing, rinsing my tears away. Peace like a river, Be with me today… Encircling, washing, Refreshing, guiding, Cleansing, purifying my thoughts, I pray. Power and might, Strength and gentleness. Peace like a river,  Wash over me. ~ Copyright © 2013 by Carole A. Smith

L egend of Ancient times, tales of beautiful lore God of forests and fields chasing beauty…wanting more. Running, desperate-escaping-flee, Beauty transforms into ornate Lilac tree. I nnocence of purity and truth White Lilac blooms… we celebrate our youth. Brave military you diligently protect Purple confident plumes depict our honor, our respect. L egacy generously gifted from the past Lovingly planted Lilac roots grow… holding firm, holding fast. Emerging from a cold-wintery-sleep each May Sweet purple-hues “The beauty of this Lilac City!” all will say. A live at 75! Our Diamond Anniversary we sing! Like that gem, our traditions are steadfast: Durable, simple, elegant with grace Timeless simplicity… Lilac petals of lace. C ommunity spirit we proudly display A festival to honor and celebrate: Our youth, our military, our beautiful land. Seventy-five years strong…Lilac Legacy We celebrate you, Spokane! ~ Copyright © 2013 by Car

I am honored to be selected as the 2013 Lilac Poet for Spokane, WA.   My poem I wrote for the Festival was "unveiled" at the Lilac Luncheon, at the Davenport Hotel on May 13, 2013. Lessons of the Lilac In the front yard by the grayed wooden gates …the Lilacs grew. Masking the cans of trash where the milk-box waits …the Lilacs grew. A place now only of childhood memories Sweet, sad, dark, light, full, alone… This is the spot where the Lilacs grew. Wild, untamed: Pruning they did not know. The Lilacs were left Unattended: free to grow. Overpowering in all their glory Blooms ripe and full Allowed freely to explore Shape, size, potential. Just like only a child once knew Sweet, sad, dark, light, full, alone… This is the spot where the Lilacs grew. Trying their hardest to make a mark in this world As if knowing their time would shortly fade Imprinting their essence into the heart and senses Of all who lavished in t