 Love,
you can walk away from it just for a little while, then it calls out quietly in the day, leading you down a path you know, or don't know, or know too well, it knocks you off your feet when you think nothing can, and then you imagine it, night becomes morning, and morning becomes night, it is so sudden sometimes comes on so fast, and you wonder again will it last, will it change you, but it does, with the lover's truth and with the lover's lie, secrets, whispers deep within the aching soul, separating you from life, and it changes you, and always has, in history in books in wars in streets in philosphy looking for more in every metaphor in every corner where love finds a soul, resisting it is useless resisting it is pointless it changes, it feeds, and it grows. love is the truth, love knows. By Melinda Cochrane copyright 2022
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There's music in the air, kind of loud, kind of rare, I caught the note, the subtle rising float above the world, as people's tear fall, it rises up and up and up through the air, surrounds us as the world aches with covid and loss of tranquility, I hear it, I caught the note, Can you hear it? it is there, listen carefully for the vibrating sound of the universe as it circles us, and protects the lost and comforts the doubts, Can you hear it? It's about to heal us, soldiers in arms carrying arrows, as we fear it takes care of us, subtle beats of soundless drums of angels arriving to guide and protect as we lay sleepless at night, can you hear it? It's called Hope, it's louder above us now, vaccine or no vaccine its there with mother nature caressing us, and if you stand still you can hear the marching too, over hills, mountains, rivers, lakes and streams, Hope comes down on us like a song, even as it is floating, floating above and finding us, listen now, beat, beat, its here, carry the sound in your heart, carry it in the day, carry it through night, Hope is here - don't give up Hope drums louder now, hold onto life and dreams, for another day. By Melinda Cochrane  As the music fills my soul my hands begin to write out the tempo in my heart and the sway and flow of song shows itself in my lines And then the life I am wearing moves too as if the music and words express my living and I sing and my eyes close and my soul bleeds The door opens to my inner life and my dream falls over the passionate peace and I turn it up louder to block out the noise from the world moving around me Then Etta James' song fills up the space, “I’d rather go blind too, I love you so much, I don’t want to see you leave me baby” closing my eyes again the music touches my dreams, I don't want you to go away, stay here with me, and my inspiration hits me The lines drift and the sun, it shines down on me and the lines free from me, then the music comes to an end and I turn it on again so I can start and begin again the painful ache in me to live the song twisted in my veins for expressive creativity calling out to me And it ain’t over, ever for me the lines keep comin’ and my heart, it bleeds me in every word and line all in the beat, rhythm and rhyme to make my dream come true like a song, sung by Etta James, lingering in my life like a longing for the day I say you stayed and now the dream sings with me. ( first publishehed at lifeasahumanmagazine There’s a lemon seed
buried between my hope where God lives and feeds my dreams of endless possibility It is stuck there, clogging up my throat making me lose my tranquility no matter how much I pray it makes me scared no matter how much I say God seems to fill me up more when alone When leaves cross my path, or suddenly things to me seem quieter in my vocal tone that damned lemon seed and then when I try to speak it hurts my throat, I cough, my voice seems hoarse and tired, so tired And that seed, that seed growing every day seems to plant a lemon tree somewhere within my own spiritual belief and I find myself holding on to that lemon seed caressing it with love as if to make the evil leave and then my soul speaks to listening ears within me and I know the walk’s going to be next to a grand plot of trees all with hanging lemons and each without lemon seeds By Melinda Cochrane First published at lifeasahumanmagazine  Your song, I can hear, as if the tune was written for me, like a stream flowing over small stones polished to perfection, the wind blowing quietly in the trees, the sun in the sky, peeking, daring me to fly, your song I can hear, but sometimes I don't know why, It finds in me words, words I did not know, as you pour me from you, as if you too know the reality of a dream like many following an unknown path, but still, but still I can hear your song, In the quiet of the night I hear you, silence does not silence you, when I turn myself over to sleep, it is as if you are there to reasssure me, it is okay, it won't go wrong, I am here for you, sing, sing with me, please sing along, sing your song, I hear every tune, every note, every word in a dream melody like a lark over a morning lake sounding morning's arrival, I hear it, I hear it so clearly that my heart cannot help but pound, I finally hear you in the middle of any storm, I hear you like I found you somewhere on this journey, a search for stories, the lark flew and the words came to me, and the song within us all, and that is where the dream sings, and that is where our story begins, this is where your dream lives, dream your song, it is yours to begin, yours to sing. BY Melinda Cochrane copyright  It's quiet-
left overs in the fridge from Christmas, cookie dough thawing gift wrap in the re-cycle bin and on the street lights shining with dreams of better days, wishing Covid away, but down the street as the snow lightly falls in the distance, the moon up there glowing, you can't help but smile as a star shines brightly above the houses still resting from the day before the night, it says, if you listen- come on now, we have better days ahead, way better, so don't feel that type of heavy, we will get through it don't give up when the fear weighs on your mind, don't fear the light- it is there, so when the clouds are too dark remember the stars and moon because up there somewhere amongst the things we do not know the things we can never be sure of, lives a love greater than the Covid fatigue- God's there, never doubt he will bring us through it all just like he brings day into night night into day dark into light By Melinda Cochrane  Last week, the windows blew quiet cold air through the halls as a gentle reminder that holiday time was quickly arriving.
Students wore their masks diligently, and despite it all, their spirits for the most part were up. I walked around to check the last assignment they were to hand in before the holidays, keeping 2 meters with my Darth Vader clear plastic face shield on. I wished someone had also equipped me with a mini-window wiper to keep it from fogging up. Breathing wasn’t as easy either with both mask and shield on, but somehow the students with their masks and me with my PPE managed to communicate. Sometimes with a chuckle at how many times I needed things to be repeated because for some strange reason both mask and shield affected my hearing. I have to be honest, there have been conversations I had in the hallways with fellow teachers where I nodded through half of what they were saying as I could not hear them. Teachers in the hallways pushed trolleys of laboratories, books, computers, travel suitcases with supplies, and bags of things needed to teach. I decided that several bags could do the task and I quickly began to say to myself every morning, “ Alright, carry, don’t forget your face shield, mask on, oh the computer cord- don’t forget this just in case the charge on it fades, the containers with journals- bring those too". It was almost like a morning mantra- one that was accompanied with my to do list and my don’t forget to bring to class list. Holiday decorations adorned the halls and students began to bring some of the energy that was normally part of the year back into the classes. The hallways were quiet, almost subdued and I missed the students talking at their lockers. The good morning Miss as you passed by them talking was something I longed to hear. You’d catch them as they went into class telling you hello and sometimes as they one or two passed me in the hall, but I longed to hear them laughing outside my classroom door at the beginning of the day But, in the changes that came with the pandemic, some things never changed, and the holiday season reminded me of this. During the last online class, we finished for the day, and as usual I gave them my seasonal message of getting outside, and resting. I announced that class was over, and what happened was something that happens every year in teaching, almost like clockwork- a beautiful set of smiling faces greeting me- this time via online class, but still smiling and saying, “ Have a wonderful holiday Miss” and I think it was their smiles that reminded me that even though there have been a lot obstacles and changes so far in the year, it has still been a beautiful one in teaching. I am looking forward to returning to class in January, albeit after a little rest and relaxing myself. By Melinda Cochrane  It keeps findin' me
down the small streets and around the bends, over highways and above ground, through halls, down stairways and over hills, down paths in trees covered with snow. It keeps findin' me in the dreams, in the songs, in the days and in the nigihts, in the mornings and in the sunsets. It keeps findin me as if it was always there, always chasin' me, even when I tell it to go away, give me some rest, come back another day, when I have more energy. It keeps finding me no matter what I do, what I say, what I feel, what I fight, what I push away, what I forget to do, what I do, what I do throughout the day. It keeps findin' me and never goes away, the inward callin', to keep this dream goin' to keep it movin', to keep it, to hold on to it, to hold it tight, to keep this dream goin', to keep the story, to write. By Melinda Cochrane copyright  Ripping open the package
there were shoes in there- black ones one-inch heel fairly simple brown paper protecting the leather from scratches or wear from shipping taking the paper away from the waiting they seemed to ask, “Are we going anywhere?” placed both on the floor slipping feet within walking around they moved up and down the wooden worn out floor boards stomping loud responses music playing in the background of memory set aside for building life taking them off placing them at the foot of a dress demanding the box be thrown out in the recycled trash and the shoes stay in promise smiling at the new leather the unscratched newness of possible caressing night lights as they sit there at the bottom waiting for movement from the demanding dress the caressing night lights the possible By Melinda Cochrane also published at lifeasahumanmagazine  Today
the blue bird came out of its cage to sing a melody of love and the song made the room remember its silence as the dried flowers of time began to age more quickly before the clock hanging over pictures framed in hopes and lost in boxes But still the blue bird perched itself on the hand of the woman about to enter the next chapters of her life and it sang a chorus of dreams through her heart As the sun began to rise in a life with stories and the bird whispered quietly to the lines in the woman’s face “you are still alive, and we should sing together” then both sang a song which lifted the sleep out of life and the dance of wings about to fly met the air By Melinda Cochrane © also published at lifeasahumanmagzine |
