Ethereal Threads

Introduction Waking this morning with fear beside me, reminding me how alone and lost I am. In the quiet contemplation of the morning, sitting at my computer desk, my fingers type words that flow from my mind. The words form verses, the verses turn into stanzas, and before my eyes—a gift from the ether—a poem is born. Embraced by inspiration, emotions bubble within, a splash of thought, and a spattering of polish. A wisp of enchantment threads through rhythmic images, and a sense of healing washes over me. Every day, a little bit of light enters my soul, filling me with joy, resilience, and the determination to face a changing world. Writing fills me with hope; hope affords promise. Although I had been writing for many years, it wasn’t until my late husband’s passing in 2018 that I understood the emotional release it provided—a catharsis that helped me navigate grief and foster healing. My good friend, Marla, encouraged me to continue writing with this purpose in mind. When I shared the strange occurrence of poems materializing each morning, she suggested that the words might be emerging from a deeper, spiritual place—that I was meant to write. In a trance-like state, she mused, “Your poetry may not be destined to be read in this lifetime.” A curious notion worthy of contemplation. Another good friend, Jerry—an artist—understands the magnitude of creative impulses and their powerful hold on a person. “You can do nothing more than surrender to creativity and work steadfastly to bring your vision to life. You don’t want to lose the thought or the impulse,” he once told me. Feverishly working for hours—slumped over my computer, a cup of coffee ever-present on my antique writing desk—this is my life now. Ethereal Threads: Weaving Resilience in Poetry explores nature, childhood memories, character studies, and love—both transcendent and eternal. Each of the eight chapters begins with a haiku, followed by four monostichs, establishing a contemplative rhythm. Most chapters include eleven additional poems, while the introduction and conclusion frame the collection with minimalist verses that invite quiet reflection. Though many poems embrace deep introspection, playful forms—such as the Tilus, Tyburn, and Double-Dactyl—offer unexpected moments of delight. In total, the collection features 125 poems, each offering an intimate glimpse into my emotions, reflections, and the evolving journey of resilience as I navigate life after the loss of my husband of thirty-eight years—seeking meaning and place in an ever-changing world. Thank you for choosing to read Ethereal Threads: Weaving Resilience in Poetry. If my words offer you a moment of reflection, if they stir something within you, if you draw hope and strength from even one of my poems, then I am truly humbled—I have fulfilled my purpose. May this collection bring a smile to your face and a gentle warmth in your heart. I wish you peace, harmony, and love. Warm wishes, Benita Glickman Chapter 1—A Poet’s Musings welcome, weary ones— a safe haven for the night, within these pages Moving Monostichs that Matter • Poetry is crafted with magic that unites the world. • When inspiration flows like a river, creativity naturally effuses. • Sharing life’s joys and sorrows, no vehicle is as powerful or as precious as a poem. • The quiet, subtle grace of poetry and a sip of lavender tea can soothe even the most troubled of souls. Welcome to My World There’s a song in my heart and a rhyme in my brain, Addressing the issues and resolving the pain. A book of poetry may invite you to see Who you were, who you are, even who you might be. So, step inside each poem, if you’re so inclined, Find the sparkle and grace that give you peace of mind. There’s magic in the verses; stanzas scream, “Surprise.” Can you still see the world through a child’s eyes? Gems hidden within troves, phrases prone to ignite, Providence and destiny bring new worlds to light. Welcome Ethereal Threads; revel quiet pleasure. Savor a poem or two, each a timeless treasure. The Beginning of My Poetic Journey I didn’t know what made a poem good; I didn’t formally study poetry nor was I familiar with the rules. But I loved reading poems and the ones that spoke to me fluttered my heart and brought peace to my soul. A calm as strong as the setting sun over the ocean brought passion into my life. I wanted to create; I had to create. My mind opened to sounds and words and the sounds of words in proximity. Words flowed—like that same ocean—joining thoughts and rhythms. And just like that, I became a poet. Holiday Wishes A poem crept into my morning; I didn’t rise to write it down. Since I didn’t heed my warning— The poem had already drowned. I sat at the desk, clicked my pen, In a frenzy to find lost words. And here’s what happened, my dear friend, The incessant chirping of birds. Now, I don’t speak a word of Bird, But I do know the mourning dove. The message for you is clear—I heard: Happy Holiday, filled with love. A Message in the Evening Sky It was dusk, the pale peach of the sky sinking to the earth. Still, much of its blue remained, smiling proudly through the glow. Dead center, a feather quill danced, catching my attention. Intuition said it was a message for me. Alone in the sky, inkless and unafraid, telepathically, it called my name. I was to write a poem—a poem about the sky, the clouds, the twilight—nature, my muse. Unwritten, unspoken; celebrated with depth and emotion, fading into the vastness, the image lingered. At home, in twilight’s gentle embrace, the call to spin verses only the boldest of hearts dare to pen.