There Once Was a Tree by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

Canshotz

There Once Was a Tree

Their story began

Soft and sweet like the velvet blossoms of the cherry tree

That stood in the middle of the park where they met

Kisses as luscious as ruby rivulets 

Were the exotic fruits that consumed them

As gasps of passion

And sighs of contentment

Filled the endless nights

That always promised more.

But soon the sudden chill of autumn

Overtook the air with unexpected force

And the carefree waters where their love had sailed

Uninhibited and free

Soon roiled with ennui

And a new search for the pieces 

Of the puzzle that had been theirs

Tore them apart

As the once-glittering pieces tumbled to the ground

Landing under the now barren branches

Of the tree in the park.

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

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Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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Through the Rearview Mirror by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

Jonathan Borba

Through the Rearview Mirror

My childhood home

Appeared in the rearview mirror

As I watched the movers start to pull away

With the last remnants of my parents

And my childhood

And I, along with the house, was empty.

I had gone down to the basement one last time

And reluctantly said my goodbyes to 

my books and record albums,

And my dolls and my toys that I had planned to give to my children

Until the day I realized that no children that would be coming.

My wedding dress had been stuffed into a box

In the far corner where the washer used to be

My dress hadn’t exactly been cherished after the divorce

But yet it, too, had remained,

A sad reminder that hope can fade without a whole lot of fanfare,

As easily as a once-beautiful silk dress.

I had discovered my compass on a shelf from my 4-H days

And I wondered why it hadn’t guided me away

From all the wrong choices I had made.

I continued to watch the truck through the mirror

Appearing to be shrinking as it bumped its way down the road

 and then disappeared through the underpass

To destinations unknown

Carrying my memories and the fragments of my life.

I turned on the engine

And headed away from the truck

Away from the underpass

Away from all that had once been my life.

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

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Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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Jumping Off an Out-of-Control Train by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

Bingqian Li

Jumping Off an Out-of-Control Train

Even long before they talked about honeymoons

Where she dreamed of Barbados

With horseback rides on the beach

And driving through citrus-splashed sunsets that were like paintings

She knew he couldn’t be moved from his desire

To hike the snow-covered trails out West

In the depths of the icy winter, which he assured her

Would be just as romantic as lying in the warm sand

With waves lapping at their feet

And they searched for a middle ground

Hoping like magic it would suddenly appear.

She should have stopped then

But she continued to make plans

Because she had boarded an out-of-control train

That was about to jump the tracks

As she held on tight.

But then the letter came and although she already knew

She pushed on and read the words 

That had always been hanging in the air

And now finally crashed on top of her

Like an avalanche.

She stood rock still for a moment 

Then with a deep inhalation of breath

As if she had just awoken from a dream

Or a nightmare

She grabbed the car keys

And raced outside

And drove past the strip malls

With their neon signs beckoning like Sirens

And the dilapidated hot-dog stand at the edge of town

Finally winding through the gnarled trees

Where hers was the only car on the hidden road that led down to the lake.

The warm air caressed her cheek as she sat 

Gazing at the sun-dappled horizon

Its reflection playing on the still waters

While the crickets chattered noisily to her

And she dreamed, hoping to find answers

As the darkness encircled her.

Soon she roused herself 

Realizing that the questions were gone

So she slowly bumped back down the road to town

And then farther, picking up speed

As she headed for the twinkling lights of the airport 

Wishing upon a star

That when she got there

She would find there was a night flight to Barbados

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

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Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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Crossings by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

Mike

Crossings

On a two-mile trek through the top of the forest in the clouds

There were six swaying bridges to cross

And nine pedestrian bridges that remained unswayed

Where the world had now become magic.

It was the rainy season

And I thought I had come prepared

Except as I began to cross the first hanging bridge

The portal to the sky was yanked open

And the deluge stung like wasps as it pelted my skin

Then with full theatrics

Klieg lights bolted through the sky

And what could have been the roars of a thousand lions

Throttled the forest.

Being at the top of the canopy provided a breathtaking view of a world

That few ever see

The trail between the bridges was lush with verdant foliage

And it was filled with fantastical creatures

Taking my breath away with their ethereal beauty

And I felt as if I had become part of an ancient story

That has been told for generations.

But trying to cross a hanging bridge that’s swaying like

An untethered pendulum

Fiercely struggling to pull myself across

Grasping tightly to the slick, black cables

Led old insecurities to rear their unwelcome faces.

But I refused to give in to my fears

As the bridges swung wildly beneath me.

I told myself that I was capable 

Of so much more than I thought

And I struggled up and down the mucky passage

Crossing the next four bridges, becoming one with the torrent

As the tempest swirled around me

I raised my head in affirmation

As I pushed through to the final bridge

And I knew I had triumphed

When I stepped onto the planks

And gripped the water-soaked cables

Then crossed

To the other side.

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

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Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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Who Will Hold Me When I Die by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

SHVETS Productions

Who Will Hold Me When I Die

The TV accompanied my life

Like a soundtrack playing in the background

I wasn’t really paying attention

Until the sonorous voice of the broadcaster solemnly proclaimed,

“She was surrounded by her loving family

As they said their last good-byes.”

The words rattled me

And the solitude pierced my heart

Until an unbidden tear trickled down my cheek

And I clicked the remote to Off

Then flung it across the room

And not for the first time, I wondered

Who will hold me when I die

When I’m bedridden

Hauntingly alone in a stark white room

Surrounded by the monotonous beep of machines

Just as the beat of my heart inevitably slows

I will sift through the memories that are all that remain of my life

Searching for the minuscule flecks of meaning

That has been my reason to hang on

Yet no one else will be able to see them

They will be so elusive that I will grasp fruitlessly as they flit through my brain

Trying to keep them from vanishing like the wave

Of a magician’s wand

Before the lights go out.

© Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Enjoy more of Nancy Machlis Rechtman's posts HERE.

Nancy Machlis Rechtman

Nancy Machlis Rechtman has poetry and stories published in Writing in a Woman’s Voice, miniMAG, Discretionary Love, Young Ravens, and other publications. Nancy has had poetry, essays, and plays published in various anthologies. She wrote lifestyle stories for a local newspaper and served as the copy editor for another paper.

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