Ordinary

dog

I wonder if we are all just living our eulogy

Tales we tell of love and warmth, purpose and valor

Personality spikes sprinkled with dramatic deplore

Is there such a difference between dog and man beyond the years we roam

Egoist form, primped faces wearing tailored clothes

I tripped on humility today

Landing on realities declaration

Extraordinary we are

Only in the moment we are born

~ Alisa Hutton

He Is

Painted Boat

As a child when the world felt impossible to understand

There he always was

Not one for unnecessary speak but how he loved to tell his good stories

The reason for their start never quite clear but the ending always delivered with loving, insightful touch

Smiling in that knowing way as he does, eyes squinted in the corners

His laugh lines always saying so much

My curiosity as a child, he always seemed to pause so comfortably in the middle of any conversation

Giving every person he engaged deserved thought

At ease with his own mind and soul

Telling our little ears to learn about the ocean tides, when and how they flow

Know when not to be scared but when you feel trouble, work hard for things you love, learn as much as you can, be your own person and no matter what always keep your values in hand

With the most difficult of questions in life there was never any rush

When you asked him in urgency, trying to navigate the heart and its sometimes misdirected ways

His answer was to measure you up with a fishing rod and take you out on the ocean for the day

Silently rocking back and forth in a boat while listening to the lapping waves

He never gave you an answer but you always found your way

He let you be and gave you space, smiling when he was proud

Disappointment wasn’t very often and never harsh or loud

As years went on I came to understand the reason he never directed us or handed us answers in response

He knew the gifts of love and safety, showing us how and where to find our peace

He taught us the answers we seek are always in the calm and quiet

He is my Uncle

I am his forever grateful niece

~Alisa Hutton

Ms. J. Doe

Jane Doe

Today I looked in the eyes of a woman I did not know

Laying quietly across from one another in a hospital corridor

Twice my age, quietly breathing the end of her story

I looked in her eyes and they seemed to mirror my own

I saw fear, sadness and loneliness in my reflection

Hers, the same deep brown as mine and tilted in similar bend

Yet, they were somewhere else

A place I didn’t know, a place that made me uncomfortable

As we laid quietly in our separate but shared space, I thought is this what it is all about?

Do we eventually end up in a corridor alone?

No comfort of love, no familiarity of a life known or lived?

No hand holding ours, no last I love you?

Does our story end with a stranger in a hall, the only comfort our own?

I couldn’t help but feel my life had been deeply scratched for a reason unknown

Something of this was meant to echo

Was it meant to reverberate a space?

Is it meant for me to open or close?

I really don’t know

I hope she could feel that I saw her life beside me and I felt her soul

I have to believe in the end

It is about something more

Than being alone in a corridor

­~Alisa Hutton

The Arbutus Tree

arbutus-tree

When I was a little girl there was a tree that grew near me

I recall asking my Mom about why this tree looked so different from al the others near our home

My eyes always drawn to how it would bend in inviting ways, without sharp corners or rigid lines

Its smooth exterior skin exposed from coarse bark

My child wonder could not help but run my tiny hands along its surface

I would sit on my patch of grass looking at this lone tree, admiring its whimsical ways and open nature

It was an Arbutus

As shared by my Mom this one in particular was very special

For the Arbutus usually don’t do well too far from the ocean

This one did though, a lone, strong Arbutus living far from its desired home yet gifting me with its beauty

I would pay extra attention to the Arbutus, proudly telling the tale that it was a very special treat for us have in growing where it did

 

I sat at the ocean edge today admiring an Arbutus

It reminded me of my childhood memory

Filling myself with the salt air I thought of my strong roots and the Arbutus that grew so well even in its less than ideal surroundings

I thought about the beauty in its exposed ways, how it lives in bend and curve, never with rigidity

The salt of the ocean offering it nourishment, healing and growth

Maybe the Arbutus that lived near me would have thrived more so living near the sea

It seeded before my time and flourished long past my childhood

During that time it continued to grow and extend its beauty in its unique way

What made it so special to me was that it managed to do so when so many thought it couldn’t be

So many years later and I think I understand why I came to know

The story of the Arbutus tree

~Alisa Hutton

Gentle Quiet

grass

Roll open the scroll of your life on the grass

Wide and long with gentle hand and thought

Precious parchment is sure to fray when harshness pours

Edges brown and beg to be absorbed back in to earth they once grew

The scroll may grow in length, assurance not your right

Sit with it in quiet, allow the rain to wash away that which is not meant for permanence

Ask for it, chant and pray if you must

Left on the wet uncomfortable quiet of the grass will be your timeless ink and legacy

When you shiver, honor stillness

When you hear only scream, honor quiet

When little is remaining, trust

Trust the story being left, the story being written

For that which is deeply rooted will not be washed away by the rain

Trust in gentle quiet

That which remains after the storm

Is

You

~Alisa Hutton