Tuplet: A standard Triplet ♪♪♪

iii
On open musing in (III.) phases:
I. Outline
II. Rough draft
III. Finished copy (maybe).

Or a haiku perhaps?
All about the number three,
And how it haunts me.

Thank you, Universe,
for all of the teachers of Three:
for trilogies and Sacred Triangles,
FatherSon&HolyGhost,
Bodhi, Trimurti,
MaidenMotherCrone, and every
departure initiation and eventual return…

For the three-ring circus,
hat trick, and ‘the pin,’
triathlons and triple crowns,
the three-second rule,
three strikes you’re out, and
three in the key…

On your mark, get set, go!

For Will’s Witches, the Fates,
ZeusPoseidon&Hades,
the musketeers, Deathly Hallows,
three rings for the Elven kings,
Goldie’s bears, the little pigs, Aladdin’s wishes,
Curly, Moe and Larry,
Beowolf’s battles, Donald and Daisy’s ducklings,
that place in Bermuda,
and three loud drunks seated at the end of
The Irish Triplet’s bar
who are perched on wobbly tripod-legged stools
while they sway to a waltz  – three sheets to a lonely wind.

Hip, Hip, Hooray! And three cheers
to the ever-returning waves of…

Wait! Yes? Oh.
Special props too – to:
Professors Coleman, Tolken, and Sherman
– who formed my academic triumvirate (back in ’83)
and gave me tools –
to majorly minor in Folklore and Ethnic Studies.
They branded my barely-formed psyche
in a vortex of three-tiered lessons
about smoldering myths, epic legends and timeless tales.
They filled this head, heart and soul
with heroes who journeyed and battled and rose up
through three alarm fires
of life, death and rebirth – so there was
nothing for me to do but surrender
to the magical, ancient, and eternally blessed:
Power of Three.

Ever after,
life took on random divisions of
“yesterdays, todays and tomorrows” whose
lengthy chapters were easily broken down and divided
into simple summary thirds:

(Example One)
Professionally:
1. college
2. career
3. holy fuck, what’s next?

(Example Two)
Maritally:
1. Husband #1 – (I was) too young
2. Husband #2 – (He was) too old
3. Husband #3 – the charm

(Example Three)
Sisters:
1. the one I never had
2. the one who left
3. the one who’s always been here

Yet is it really so simple? Is it all just
‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am?’
Is it truly only
‘a third of a cup of this, and two thirds of a cup of that?’
Is it really as easy as
‘Uno, Dos, Tres?’

Sorrows can’t be divided by anything except Faith,
and the sum of Joy is much greater
than any number cubed.
Is there a grand total equivalent of Happiness?
What’s the math on Reality?
Is there a guiding numeral for Love?
(oh shit, did the cock just crow?)

But I have to ask these questions – because otherwise,
how can I explain my life’s extraordinary trifecta:
one son and two daughters?
What my heart feels for these three humans
doesn’t always make sense
nor does the unconditional loyalty I’ve pledged to this trio
who come from my blood, sweat and tears.
I don’t quite know how my love for them
is equilateral, eternal and perfectly framed
in a triangle called “my heart.” I only know it is.

So yes. Yes, indeed. Thank you, Universe!
Thanks for the threes of each passion, prayer and promise.
Thanks for the glorious sun, moon, stars
and the familiar rhythms of time passing from dawn to day to dark.
With my cold hands, cold feet, and warm heart;
and a full breath, soft belly, and clear mind, I embrace
past, present, and future: the three that are me.

A true tale in (iii.) parts:
i. Once upon a time
ii. There lived a girl
iii. The end (though, I think not).

I feel there is more to it.
Beyond chapter three: Life expands.

© martha lee phelps

About Martha Phelps Studio ~ creative on purpose

...a meandering journal of a changing life and the unexpected graces it brings. Earlier posts may provide some history, but this series of writings aren't likely to follow a straight line as I explore topics such as raising kids, making choices, self discovery, the impact of change on a family and how to (hopefully) live with balance and purpose. www.marthaphelps.com
This entry was posted in Poetry (matters), Siftings and Essays of the Heart, Through My Lens, Written by Herself and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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