The Strange Threshold of the Unknowing

I live in the unknowing

Will you come and visit me there 


I am your daughter 

Once a part of you

You carried me

Everywhere



Then I was born 

And you carried me no longer but

You would visit me

Everywhere


I live in the unknowing

Will you come and visit me there 


You crossed oceans and borders 

Stranger thresholds for me

You would visit me 

Everywhere 


To the hospitals, to the streets

Wherever I lived

You would visit me

Everywhere 


I live in the unknowing

Will you come and visit me there 


You left your home to be with me

To care for that which I loved 

You would visit me 

Everywhere 


Would you leave your certainty

Would you leave your faith

Would you visit me

Everywhere 


I live in the unknowing

Will you come and visit me there 


Maybe there is a place 

Where mother’s can’t go

© Ruby Neumann



Poet's Note:  Written May 30, 2022


I wrote this with a lot of mother's in mind... including my own.  I hear stories of mothers going to visit their children that require them to cross strange thresholds.  


What does it take for a mother to cross over the Strange Threshold of the Unknowing?  Can she pick up that book, can she make that call, can she have that conversation, can she journey out of her faith, if only for a day, to see what is beyond the borders of her knowing?  


There is many a daughter who can't invite her mother across this threshold, out of fear, out of shame, out of respect, out of love.  But will that mother cross it herself if only just to visit her daughter where she lives?  


My Uncertainty

How do I say that I'm an atheist… 


BECAUSE


EVEN THOUGH I DON'T EMBRACE MOST 


OF WHAT THEISTS EMBRACE


I STILL CAN'T LET GO OF… 


MY UNCERTAINTY

© Ruby Neumann



Poet's Note:  It's May 21, 22 and this thought was in my head.  Sometimes it doesn't look like a poem.  Maybe it is just a thought, but not all poems are long drawn out lyrics.  Sometimes the smallest thought can be the greatest of poems.  

When I saw the picture it attracted me to what I was really trying to convey.  I can declare this message with the most peaceful, content and biggest smile there is.  I hold on to my doubts, not as a valued possession, but as a close friend.  I hug my uncertainty like it will be my companion for the rest of my life.  

I don't think I need to land anywhere.... on religion or on science.  Maybe it is like being suspended between the diving board and the water, but that is where I am and, right now, I'm okay with that.  

I am a truck


I am a truck


I was created in a factory in Michigan


I have been in existence for over a decade 


In all that time no one required me to change the colour of my paint 


No one said I was to big or too little


No one told me I should have had leather seats instead of cloth


No one replaced my engine because it wasn’t powerful enough


No one asked of me anything more that what I was built to perform 


I have fulfilled my purpose by carrying a person from one place to another



I am a truck 


I am not a human body 


Humans are not content with the paint they received at the factory 


Humans are not happy with their size


Humans are not satisfied with their interiors or their engines


It seems that humans are in a constant process of changing their body 


Maybe they forgot the purpose of the body was to carry their person from one place to another


I am a truck


I could care less what other trucks look like


Their paint, body size, seats, and engine don’t change my purpose


I am created to carry a person from one place to another 


Nothing more 


Nothing less 


I am a truck 


© Ruby Neumann





Poet's Note: Written May 7, 2022,  1:17 am... when my body should have been sleeping.  My head was spinning this early morning trying to wrap my thoughts around my own paint job and the paint job of others.  I tried to process my need for an engine change when the engine I have works fine. I tried to understand why leather seats were more desirable than cloth seats. Why is my interior not enough?  What is my purpose?  What is this body's purpose?  Is it not simply to carry me from one place to another?


This analogy may only apply to one 2011 Ford Escape that is parked in my yard at this very moment, awaiting the next opportunity to carry me from "one place to another".  Other trucks don't have what my truck has… only purpose.  Other trucks have been modified to please their human.  Other trucks understand what humans are like.  But my truck sees all that as nonsense.  My truck can't understand why paint colour matters, why tire size matters, why engine performance matters.  My truck is more enlightened that I am.  My truck understands life more than I do.  My truck could teach the world a great lesson.  

Naomi

Maybe 


I'm not the one to lose my tears 


Maybe


I am the one to say it's time


Maybe 


I'm the one that is right



Pain


How much do I bear


Life


When do I let go


Love


What if it's not strong enough to keep me here



How


Do I apologize to the ones I love


How 


Do I ease their pain


How 


Could I have done this to them 



Maybe


I didn't think about them


Maybe


I couldn't think about them


Maybe 


I just did it. 


© Ruby Neumann




Poet's Note: April 30,22 ... Naomi Judd's life ended.  I am sad today.  


"Today we sisters experienced a tragedy. We lost our beautiful mother to the disease of mental illness. We are shattered, We are navigating profound grief and know that as we loved her, she was loved by her public, We are in unknown territory." Ashley Judd


I don't blame Naomi.  How can I blame her?  I am sad, but I understand her.  


Who is Naomi to me... but a reminder of what is possible for me down the road.  There are others who are in pain.  There tears matter.  Their bleeding hearts matter... They are the ones who lost.  


Wynonna, Ashley, Larry... to name three who are in pain, trying to navigate life now without Naomi.  What moved me so much was that Naomi took her life the day before her and Wynonna would accept the honour of being inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame.  Wynonna and Ashley stood on the stage together as Wynonna accepted an honour that was to be shared with her mother.  


What will Mother's Day be like for Wynonna and Ashley.  My heart goes out to them both.  This was not the journey they signed up for.