“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ~ Charles Dickens
Not all journeys entail physically moving via mode of travel. Not all baggage is luggage. Not all in our possession belongs to us. Not all we carry on our shoulders is ours to carry. Not all we push against, even with all our might, will budge. Not all we move toward is best for us.
Let loose your baggage.
When the key opens the door,
you know you are home.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
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In the Cool of the Day
When God created Adam from the dust of the earth, He breathed His own life into him. Adam had as near a perfect relationship with God as we could possibly fathom. They walked together in the garden in the cool of the day. They talked. God allowed Adam to name every animal He had created. The Bible doesn’t go into much detail about their daily communion with each other, but it leaves no doubt they had an intimate relationship. Adam had God in face-to-face, real connection. What an amazing thing to ponder. We know God has a sense of humor, and that He made Adam in His own imagine. I love to imagine them making each other laugh to near tears on the regular! I love to imagine Adam picking God’s brain when it came to caring for His creation. How amazing would it be to have been able to have a documentary of, say, a week in the life. Oh to have that face-to-face, closest of relationships with our very God! And yet, God saw that Adam experienced a nagging and substantial loneliness that he couldn’t shake. Did God reprimand him with, “Adam! Quit your whining, oh ye of little faith! I am all you need!” No. He understood and His heart was touched by Adam’s need. He made a companion and “suitable helper” for Adam. And then God communed with both of them.
God values our needs.
And in fact, to come to Him,
need is all we need.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Hospital Room 314
Clanks outside his room
would inspire the old Gandy Dancers’
calls and responses.
When no one is in the room,
the motion-activated towel dispenser
dispenses.
He says when he sits on the toilet,
the woodgrain in the door
resembles a nearly life-size man
sitting on the toilet
watching him sit on the toilet.
checking poking prodding in and out of the room in and out of his veins trying to get him from point A to the much-needed point B
Rest doesn’t come easily.
That tracks.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
© Marie Elena Good 2026
This is in response to our Poetic Blooming’s prompt #598: Write an on track poem. It is also about my husband, who was admitted for an acute attack of pancreatitis.
DISPIRITED
Darkness descended
within and without.
No glint of joy.
No moon to spill soft light.
Margins blurred between night and heart
as she sat silently,
giving no voice to the shadows within.
He held her silence,
and built her a fire in the hearth.
Her eyes fixed on the flames,
as if her only solace.
He tended the fire long into the night,
until the final log was nearly consumed.
He then rose from his rocker,
split it,
and kept the flames alive.
© Marie Elena Good, 2012 (reworked in 2026)
This expresses a true event of an evening during one of my daughter’s darkest seasons and her rien remarkable act of sensitive selflessness.
Predicament
There once was a gal named Marie
A head of brunette curls had she.
Then some became white
and, what seemed overnight,
she saw scalp where some curls used to be!
© Marie Elena Good 2026
For today’s pictured words post, you’ll have to picture it. 😉
Through My Windows
Antique
Old lamp’s prisms
reveal rainbows
and remembrances.
Night Light
Night’s lesser light
strikes snow’s pure white.
My bedroom awakens.
Senses
slender window
flaunts lilacs,
draws scent
© Marie Elena Good 2026
The Mother of Alzheimer’s
Who birthed (unearthed)
This unwelcome invasion,
Or gave it the right
To hijack each occasion
Meant to endure and assure her
She’s loved. She belongs.
It ceaselessly wrongs her,
Assassinates her senses;
Condenses her being
To fleeting moments,
Thought amputation,
Self dislocation,
And few kin.
And it will win.
© Marie Elena Good, 2016
Mom’s Passing (2018)
She began speaking
of needing to get ready
for the bus (taxi?)
that would very soon
be arriving to take her.
If she knew where to,
she didn’t tell us.
Such questions were hard for her,
so we wouldn’t ask.
We’d just pack for her,
had she asked us to do so.
For years she couldn’t.
She couldn’t decide
what to take, or what to leave.
Empty her closet.
Sleep in the guest room,
as her bed was filled with clothes
she would take nowhere.
Now she couldn’t leave.
Couldn’t get up from her bed.
She didn’t know that.
She didn’t know that
she was on hospice care now.
She didn’t know that
her last fall would be
what interrupts this disease,
and its progression.
That it would still win,
but wouldn’t finish the race.
So she would win, too.
… and the “slow goodbye”
ended in twenty eighteen,
when she journeyed on.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
Two squirrels playing tag
in a big maple tree.
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
A face in a cloud
with a funny goatee.
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
My mom’s picnic table
and pitcher of tea.
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
The wind left a space
where my shoes used to be!
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
I see Bigfoot’s footprints!
(You might disagree.)
I look out my window
and what do I see?
Our bee balm is blooming,
and see? There’s a bee!
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
I see the black cap
of a cute chickadee.
I look out my window,
and what do I see?
I see squirrels, trees, and bees,
and a pitcher of tea.
I see funny cloud shapes,
and a cute chickadee.
I see bee balm and Bigfoot.
(You’ll still disagree.)
(But in all of my views,
I don’t see my new shoes.)
I look out my window,
what more do I see?
I reliably see
a reflection of me.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
Of Haiku and Children’s Stories
once upon a time
and five-syllable launches:
openings I trust
© Marie Elena Good 2026
You know how people sometimes ask what your favorite color is? It has always been so hard for me to give a firm, convincing response. The green outdoors is so life-giving that I love to bring it inside. And when I wear it, it makes my eyes look pretty green. Soft, watery blue is lovely and restful. YlnMn blue is the most magnificent color I have ever laid eyes on. It is even better than royal or cobalt. Lemony yellow is cheerful and bright. My husband likes it when I wear red, though I don’t own much. Gray is fantastic for making any imaginable color near it pop. Being my favorite season and bringing welcome childhood memories, autumn colors warm my heart. But it wasn’t until this weekend that I suddenly realized I do have an absolute favorite.
Spring’s first buds and blooms.
Snowfall. Fresh sheet of paper.
Purity and peace.
© Marie Elena Good 2026
pictured words 