On September 29, 2022, this group lost a cherished member. We were some of her precious people, and she touched many of our lives. The poems that follow are our tribute to Martha.
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The air is cool in the mornings now.
Irreverent and joyous Martha
How we will miss you.
—Elayne Lansford
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Martha
Why does your death sit so heavy in my chest and belly, when I barely knew you?
The phrase: Today we lost one of the greats, keeps echoing in my mind and heart
Your unabashed authenticity, your sparks of wit, laughter, joy, wisdom, and your honesty with your journey through the dark and light spaces in your life.
Your poetry meeting reminders week after week, simply because I expressed an interest, left a warm glow
The way you listened when we shared, reflected, and encouraged, all who showed up with their individual bent of creativity.
You seemed to radiate a knowing of self, that resonated from depths in you, that is rare to experience.
So even when my logical, concrete left brain can't tell why it feels like you're leaving to mingle with stardust, leaves a void
I know your presence in my life left an impact that needs no rationale.
Blessings on this new journey.
Please laugh there too.
—Jean Lopez
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She passes
Surprise
Heartache
Martha
Martha
Martha
—Jay (Jenille) Cross-Figueroa
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Martha's Smile
A dazzle.
A child finds a light
that hops across her crib,
a funny fellow.
It can bounce on her hand
or slide along the sheet.
She tries to lift it
but it drops.
Oh, now it's back!
It dances to her knee,
to the nose of her bear!
She giggles as she tries to catch it.
We make these choices early.
To see. To reach. To laugh.
—Sarah Webb
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If I may add an anecdote of our beloved Martha Ward:
Some of you may know that she used to enjoy watching the sunset from the Hancock Golf Course near Appamada. One day, she and I were coordinating around one of those sunset sits and during that conversation, she indicated that she had some blueberries and wanted to put a jar of them in my mailbox. A few days later, Martha sent me a text saying, "G’morning Sunni. I left your jar in your mailbox - w/chilled blueberries 👋🌻
.” I went outside and checked my mailbox…nothing. I texted Martha: "That’s so sweet of you. I just checked my mailbox and I don’t see anything?" She called me to resolve the mystery and we laughed outloud together. Somebody got plump, ripe blueberries and a jar that day, but it wasn't me. From that point onward, I referred to myself as “Sunni without the Blueberries,” and we always smiled.
.” I went outside and checked my mailbox…nothing. I texted Martha: "That’s so sweet of you. I just checked my mailbox and I don’t see anything?" She called me to resolve the mystery and we laughed outloud together. Somebody got plump, ripe blueberries and a jar that day, but it wasn't me. From that point onward, I referred to myself as “Sunni without the Blueberries,” and we always smiled.I know many of you miss her. I do, too. I miss all of you.
Sun
—Sunni Brown
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I loved Martha and told her so. Tell people you love them.
—Leaf M
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Details. How much do they matter?
Today, I am thinking of trees.
One can shed thousands of leaves
and still be a tree.
Buddha and the bodhi tree.
Christ and the olive tree.
Plato and the plane tree.
George Fox and the walnut tree.
I wonder if Martha Koock Ward
had a favorite tree.
—Veda Smith
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The gathering of Poets
I was invited by a friend
to a gathering in a digital window.
There I met people doing Zen
with the kernel of creativity mixed in with wisdom.
sprinkled with wit
as Martha sure did.
Meditating first,
to bring out the voice
contained in written word.
Words giving voice
to the emotions in our soul,
the thoughts in our brain,
to cry, to laugh, to heal.
People creating together
in their loneliness,
opening their hearts
as they share
with the gathering of poets.
—Starlit Swan in tribute to Martha Koock Ward
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For Martha
After my attention is caught by an event,
real or imagined,
my perception is refined as I select words
to share what I have experienced,
the direction of a movement,
the speed of an action,
the importance of an event,
the seriousness of a situation,
the feelings of the speaker,
the finality of a change,
Are reflected in my choice of words.
She is no longer here, she is gone.
She has passed.....passed on...passed away.
She died.
THESE ARE ALL TRUE AND MUST BE FACED.
Until a wise friend says, “Turn your attention to your memories,
to the times you had together.” *
Calling with some task,
explaining who, what, where, when and why
it is essential that the task be performed by me,
because she is sure that I am the perfect,
and possibly the only person who can accomplish this mission.
(I will miss getting these calls!)
Speaking out at meetings with a well thought out comment
(or two).
Sitting at the round table
planning, plotting and organizing.
Teasing out some problem,
often with laughter.
(Oh, what a sense of humor she had!)
Discussing, exploring, sharing
and deciding on an appropriate action.
(And how it can be carried out.)
Sitting in the yard listening to Martha's reflecting
on some issue in my life,
enjoying the green quiet as her views give me
new perspectives on my world.
Guiding, coaxing and teasing all of us through
Poetry for Wellness sessions,
amazing us with some new,
and unexpected way to describe an ordinary life event.
We must continue to do all of these things
BUT we now have to accomplish them without Martha and her
courage,
creativity,
humor,
energy;
and most of all kindness and love.
—Laura A. Smith
*Martha was the “wise friend” who said this so it seemed fitting to rewrite this for her.
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Thank You
Life is always giving us something we need,
but not always what we think we need.
I want, desire, and suffer for my cravings,
and sometimes, without knowing how,
there is an aha and a slap to the forehead.
Yes! I see now what I didn’t see before.
Sometimes, life is gracious,
providing a soft kick in the pants,
prodding us gently to see the gifts in front of us.
Other times not so much,
giving us a lesson, over and again,
till we comprehend,
and slap our forehead.
It’s not about us, not about me.
That’s what Martha would say.
That’s what she told me
in so many words.
I knew that but had forgotten.
She reminded me,
graciously,
and I am grateful.
—Paul Causey
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No Title. From the series Opposites. 2022 by Milene Zozaya
Raindrops
We think our life is complete
Some other times, we are looking to complete it, with studies, with people, with a career...
But we are just raindrops in the middle of a storm
We are all falling together
We share that experience, that journey
The cloud that let us go
In the end, we will all be together again and form a river
—Milene Zozaya
No Title. From the series Opposites. 2022 by Milene Zozaya
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"Marvelous Martha"
I didn't take the time to greet her on the streets
I can't believe she left behind all this dust, all this sunshine
I can not believe, and I can
watch her flickering smirks on our poetry calls,
hear that South Texas drawl
talk about enchantments:
those oceans of grasslands,
the cactus-lined highways,
the endless blue sky touching the wildflowers,
the castles of purple cloud tantrums,
the silent lightning strikes
the rush of the flood, carving new passage
in the miles of life.
She was a great cook of words.
She kept a garden within, watered with green leaves of comfort
pockets of shade, the insights of sunlight.
She kept thorny thickets that stabbed most unwelcome intruders,
except those that swept her body away,
away to the stardust, to the dances with moonrise in Austin.
We stay behind, this wolf pack of writers
we howl to the stars this patchwork of memory.
Call to her now in remembrance,
lick the wounds of her suffering,
cover her with kisses and love
for what was, what is and shall always be:
Marvelous Martha.
—Emily Romano
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Dear Martha,
Thank you for helping me to connect deeply to myself and others through poetry. You lead Poetry 4 Wellness and Just Zen Writing meetups with flair and compassion. Your light shone bright during the dark days of the pandemic and the political chaos that ensued. Your work to help heal hearts and minds was not lost to me as I looked for a peaceful refuge in the storm. Thank you for opening your heart and home to me for tea and a stargaze at Hyde Park. I will remember your words of encouragement. I am so glad you are now one with All That Is. Rest easy knowing you will always be remembered fondly and with lots of love.
Always,
Ivory Smith
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YOU TRICKSTER YOU!
You could have at least given me a heads up,
Martha—
you know I don’t like surprises
or a lot of discussion.
You could have just quietly emailed me
or sent a text before you left,
but then I know you never did anything
quietly—
We talked about that,
remember---
more than once
and you said you would try.
Maybe this was it.
Maybe this was the time
you decided to be quiet,
to slip silently away,
no advance notice.
I didn’t even get to say,
“Good-bye.”
I hear your chuckling words,
"Well, that’s what you wanted,
so here you are.”
You trickster you!
You always were,
I knew it all along!
—Judy Myers
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For Martha
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