My Photo with Juhan Liiv’s Poem

Leaves Fell

A gust roused the waves,
leaves blew into the water,
the waves were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

It was good for my heart:
there my feelings were ash-gray,
the sky tin-gray,
ash-gray the autumn.

The breath of wind brought cooler air,
the waves of mourning brought separation:
autumn and autumn
befriend each other.

Juhan Liiv (Translated by: H.L. Hix and Juri Talvet)
Source: Poetry (June 2011)
Seeing Through Illusion
Seeing Through Illusion

Trust this Love

“Trust this love,” you tell me.

Can I just trust you to love me
how you love me,
which seems rather wonderful.
Instead of all this
looking back at past
sorrows that I cannot
change or correct.
To let go into this moment,
into you and your
deep pools of
the way you
can join together my
disconnected thoughts.
The way your quick mind
sends forth this salve; just
the probing question to
turn me from the infinite
trail of “what ifs;”
the way you can intuit
what you are feeling and
tell me when I am hurting you,
at the time I am hurting you,
rather than carrying it
around silently in small
atomic packages of
cold war sentiments,
never knowing when
will be achieved.

The way you turn in your sleep
to hold me once again
after I’ve moved away.

This is the photo of me he loves; the one in which I see my wrinkles, and big nose, and lifeless middle-aged hair. And he says again: Trust this love.
This is the photo of me he loves; the one in which I see my wrinkles, and big nose, and lifeless middle-aged hair. And he says again: Trust this love.

Wait Five Minutes To Extend Battery Life!

This boy is my hero. Do you know how many batteries Josh has already gone through in his five-year stint with hearing aids? Quite a few. And I had no idea what those little orange stickers were before reading this! Student makes discovery when it comes to extending hearing aid battery life.

How the Steeple Casts its Shadow

A poem written on the day I turn forty-five,

after a month of exhausting myself with worry

over my son’s right ear.

At 45 years of age, I’ve noticed that

the journey is no longer

about getting somewhere.

Instead, I arrive to each day as it comes.

Here, I will stand as the aged tree with lost limbs:

always reaching, always grounding. Here,

I can both feel sunlight and offer shade.

How much is lost in translation?

How would it change things to know

the Great Teacher did not say,

Do not be afraid, but rather,

Embrace it all?

Crows do not seem to ask why

they’ve returned to the same rooftop.

Perhaps, however, they wonder

how the steeple will cast its shadow.

At 45 years of age, living with

openheartedness matters more

than tracking slippery happiness;

asking how seems more productive

than asking why.

Heidi Fettig Parton


The Cold

I am not ensconced in a sheath of
soft red velvet
but in slow-moving, thick
white mucus
that makes everything turn into
irrelevant dollops
of time pressing onto vast fields
of nothingness
until this ear thump, throat scratch,
jelly swallow
subsides and I can once again use
language as
a person who is moving forward
with life.

Heidi Fettig Parton

(first published on my experimental blog:

Redemption (they said)

They said

crows are intelligent,

watching people

so they might

leave appropriate gifts.

This past week,

the crows have been

leaving slices of

bread in my backyard.

I haven’t eaten gluten

in over two years.


My five-year-old

crows for attention

with his little

Peter Pan smile.


They said

I needed a

penlight to

record my

dreams and,

when I finally

ordered one,

a box arrived

with 25.


becomes light

sabers for

five-year old boys)

They asked,

what about

hosting a

Yin Yoga and

Embodied Writing


They asked,

what about


wine and bread?

Positive and Negative

I have this thing I’ve been doing this winter: I stand over my stove most mornings stirring chocolate chips into steaming milk; I use my grandmother’s hand mixer to whip full-fat cream and maple syrup together. The whipping cream tops my homemade cocoa. Did I mention I want to reduce my sugar intake?

I have this thing I’ve been doing for years: I clear out a build up of life junk, bringing it through the drive-thru at the Goodwill because I long to live a simpler life. Did I mention that sometimes—most times—on my Goodwill visits, I park my car after unloading it so that I can peruse the Goodwill’s diverse section of used books? I might bring home an old book simply because I like it’s cover. “Check out that Mid-century design—they don’t make covers like that anymore,” I tell my husband when he questions why I purchased a book on football in the 1950s. I also pick up vintage maps, old family photos, and other ephemera.

I have this thing I do when I’m sick: I binge watch old TV shows about large families, like Eight is Enough, The Partridge Family, and The Brady Bunch. Did I mention that I suffer from cyclical—yet profound—longing for uninterrupted solitude?

Life is filled with opposite pulls. While it’s still common for me to struggle against the opposing poles of my life, through studying yoga, I learned that to be alive is to suffer the pull of opposites; hatha yoga creates a path towards the union of opposites. The more I can get away from black and white thinking, labeling emotions as “good” or “bad” and just rest in my knowledge that the whole of my life has the capacity to work with all experiences, the better I live.

A battery derives power from both a positive and negative charge.