Between Chapters

Just closed a chapter of my life
Haven’t started the next one yet
That leaves me
Between Chapters.

Floating in some sort of limbo
Needing to make decisions
Start something new

Making decisions should be easy
When I know that I can do what I want
And others will support me—
Most especially God

What do I want, then?
Help others.
Live well, laugh often, love much.
Be a better person.
Learn as much as possible—
Vague enough to keep action to a minimum and
Interests to a maximum

Pick up a pen and just write.
White out works, if it’s needed
And pressing the backspace button
is easy enough on a computer
But not so simple in Real Life

“Whatever it is, just do it”
Ben Lee sings in my ear while I write.
Fortuitous wise words

I’m doing.
More than doing,
I am becoming.
That’s another poem.

April Murdock
29 November 2007

Callous

Their skin blends with the rich, dark soil
Moist, fertile, broken now because
We’ve labored with our hoes

Backs bent
Bent over
Parallel with the earth to which we give
Our Energy our Sweat our Time

The yield is high
We are blessed
Mounds of cassava, potatoes, tomatoes, maize, yams
Bananas of so many varieties

Yes, the yield is high
The climate favors us
This morning is cool and cloudy
It will rain soon

Backs bent
Digging and breaking that promising ground
Which doesn’t blend with my skin
I stand to straighten
Worried I’ll walk away with a permanent view of the ground
If I don’t

My hoe is used to this work
The handle is worn smooth
Where other dark hands have gripped it
I’m glad they broke it in

I look again at my callous-turned-blister
Blisters turn to callouses
With rawness in between
Only I can break in these hands
There is no shortcut
My hands proudly yield to callouses

The yield is high, yes
Food enough to eat
Yet eaten by hunger for more

How many centuries,
How many societies,
How many people
Have been breaking hard ground?

How many mothers have borne children who needed fed,
Held with calloused hands while they suckled, then
Back to the garden
The field
The plot
Sleeping baby tied on back
Toddlers by their side,
Creating their first callouses
Small backs bent over small hoes
Small hands working small piles
Small mouths to feed

They are many
And keep growing
With their appetites for
Food, yes, but also
School Fees
a little Pocket Money
Smart Clothes
Radio
and even Television

When is it enough?
Other places are worse

The clouds are gathering
We are gathering food
For families
For friends
For futures
For now
Who’ll buy at my price?

Bend
Break
Yield
New callous

April Murdock
3 Sept. 2007

The Pencil

I write this with a pencil—
Time-tested technology.
Honoring the common utensil
Is my task of creative ecology.

Yet what currently runs deeper through my blood and out my hand
is an ode for—
Pork.

You see, here in Africa, it’s not so much the head but the belly that rules the fork.
We hear the pigs squeal, we smell them next door.
We watch them slosh in the mud before we buy them at the store.
Walking to market we see those same swine cut up.
Their insides now out, flies flocking for yuck.
No more squeals we hear, but the meat’s mighty fine.

The other white meat?
Baby, it’s mine.

April Murdock
20 May 2007

A Sweltering Afternoon on the Albert Nile

Hey, there, hippo
Please can I sit on your back for a minute?
It’s so hot out and that water looks so good…

April 2007

BETTER THAN ICE CREAM?

It’s nigh unto impossible to choose a favorite food.
But under the right circumstances
(like if my life were threatened
or if I were offered a million dollars
—I’d prefer the latter)
I just might have to choose ice cream.

I’d say I’m addicted.
Seriously.
Send me to ice creamaholics anonymous.

I don’t care what flavor or brand, really.
I just love that creamy, sweet taste
rolling off my spoon
and dissolving in my mouth.

I like it crunchy, fruity, chocolately, mundane,
new flavors, classics, name brands and plain.

I don’t buy 5-Qt. tubs,
but prefer buying a few half-gallons
so I have more variety.

And of course I eat straight from the container.
I scrape the sides where the ice cream is softest.
So hard to resist!

When I go out,
I order a different flavor for each scoop.
My shakes are a conglomeration of mix-ins:
pineapple eggnog,
white chocolate strawberry,
creamy caramel chocolate-ribbon crunchy toffee M&M whipped cream flavor…
Mmmm.

Want a bite?
I’m happy to share.
I’ll take one of yours, too.

So hard to get enough.
The Stones’ song, “Can’t Get No Satisfaction,”
popular well before my birth,
was nevertheless written for me.

Once I start, I don’t want to stop
until I’m sick or I run out.
Oh, I feel gross and vow that next time
I’ll set some limits (and keep them).
I swear it’ll be days before I’ll want ice cream again,
but no—
the next day, or even hours later,
I want more.

Kissing is probably healthier.

I’ve never known anyone to get fat
or high cholesterol from kissing.
I certainly could go for a run after a kiss
and not feel sick
(but then who needs to run when you’re floating?)

I hear kissing is better than ice cream.
If so, I fear I’m doomed.

Once I start, I won’t want to stop.
Then I’ll tell you about desire.
And regret.

Better than ice cream?
I wouldn’t know.
Kissing is probably healthier—
but for now,
ice cream is all I’ve got.

April Murdock
1.4.07