Oh
can i tell you
how i unreeled that day
like silk from a loom?
The fabric of me
wound so tight
that alas i flung out over you loose and free
wrap yourself in me
i begged, come home here come deep inside
and let me
drench you
with my lvoe. And wasn't it pure beauty
how the world disappeared
around us melting everything
but those delicate bow lips
and your warm honey skin? And did you notice
as i wove
colorful ribbons of silk around you
in shades
the world has never seen?
The deepest of purples
most dandilion of yellows
and grassiest of spring greens,
shades
only ever detectible
to a lover's eye.
And
shhh
i have to tell you
how i relished
that only you saw
when finally and at last
i flew. Oh
how i fear
the moment
my silk spins to wool
my colors to gray
and i can't be in this world
any longer with you.
i met oliver for dinner tonight
bought him salmon and chocolate cake when he finished work sometimes i want to call him ollie but that’s what only you called him
i'm afraid it will make him uncomfortable it will bring about that tortuous silence we have both become so versed in
the stuff that speaks so violently loud that together we swim in thoughts of you
memories that are okay in quiet dark aloneness but too scary together i'm missing my art companion your homemade pesto and apple pie
and thanksgiving dinners us three together
you and i playing scrabble and him snoring on the floor i still have those purple slippers you knitted me for Christmas in the back of my closet
the felted two left feet that never quite shrank enough and flop around when i walk in them
he wears his grey ones around the house i know but i can’t bear to look down all of the time and think of you
so tonight we ate our chocolate cake together and talked of work and the weather
while all along I was thinking how very much he still needs you to call him ollie and tell him to tuck his shirt in and wear his nametag at work
it’s not the same when it comes from me
so this has become the dance we waltz together
round and round we go from silence to small talk and back againfor fear of getting too close and losing the only other one left
When the sun begins its retreat after dinner but before dessert, excitement swells
For this girl born on the first day of Autumn hasn't yet forgotten of which season she came
Together now you and I stroll hand in hand as the velvety evening breeze musses my hair and freckles your rosy cheeks for one last time
The sugary smell of sweet peas and aroma of freshly clipped grass grows my grin wide with pleasure and tickles your nose crazy I know
Children down the street scream and yelp with glee and happiness of another glorious summer day done
September is here and summer will finally begin to loosen is stifling hot grip
Soon the leaves will begin to ripen into old age and wither
first growing chartreuse in color and then as scarlet and bloody as an August sunset
I will shake out my wool sweaters in anticipation of all things warm and cozy
As memories of cold nights spent toasting marshmallows in the fireplace and plucking the last few grapes off the vine bring me back to home
I can't wait for big fat raindrops to kiss my eyelashes hello again and drip down to the tip of my nose Fall is almost here and I am happy again.
sitting alone
in the dark drafty silence
rest has again escaped me
words, thoughts, ideas
encompass my brain and body so immensely
that a compulsion to bleed them onto the page,
to purge out all of the worry and anxiety ensues.
Those things that keep me too sick and full
to sleep the night through have reappeared
for a multitude of years now
and i have thus become an expert at the exact melodic hum
a symphony of passing cars makes,
the crickets choraling the way they only do while most of the world sleeps.
Would Alanis sing how ironic it is
that someone who is often scared of many her own thought
now spends nights unaccompanied and swimming in thick, heavy, dark aloneness
a silence so tremendous it shouts out
that while a life may be full of other ones
we are brought here to sing our very own aria
and then curtsy out.
Today is one of those days. It’s one of those days when the sun is neither completely in hiding nor dripping thick honey rays gleefully upon us. One of those days where the clouds are blurry and sprawling dusty grey across the skyline, crying neither cold, damp tears down upon us, nor sweeping steadily eastward, fluffy and happy as they are on hot August afternoons. This morning I stood on my porch and watched them, waiting for some action, some involvement on their part. But they just sat there, like heavy benevolent barges skimming slowly across a sea, taking their dear old time to get anywhere, nowhere perhaps. They are meditating I suppose, contemplating their next move. And so today I’m noticing this general stillness not only in the sky overhead but also in the air around me, a tranquility that in my busy life I rarely choose to settle down deeply into. It’s days like these that this agnostic self of mine feels a slight bit of something Devine-like around me, swaddling me in stillness, demanding I let go of the anxiety that fills my daily mind. Today the wind isn’t blowing and the traffic outside is barely audible and the phone hasn’t rung and something deep is I think staring me firmly in the face. It’s goading, asking me what I’m going do about this stillness, knowing that in most instances I would run fast from such stunning calm.
My big red fuzzy dog, my little baby boy, is curled up like a ball in his cedar chip bed snoozing the day away. I watch as his little toes wiggle here or their and his nose twitches in dreamy delight, yips and barks peeking out from between his lips. I imagine he’s is dreaming of his canine friends, of trips to the river, things that make him happy rather than the day to day stress of being left home alone for hours on end and probably having daily abandonment anxiety. Maybe he’s on to something, this little man of mine. Today I think I will take a cue from him and from those big stubborn and still clouds above. I will read my book and relish the silence rather than try to distract myself from it. I will leave the stereo, the television, and the cell phone off and be with my thoughts, no matter how scary they may be and how corny that sounds. Should inspiration strike, maybe I will actually cook a real meal, rather than filling my body with the usual diet of snacky foods that I let waltz around in my stomach daily, trying desperately nourish me in vain. Maybe I will knit or paint or take a long walk. Maybe I will sit and do absolutely nothing and concentrate on allowing this ever-racing mind of mine to steadily slow to a halt and be in this very moment, this quiet, still, cloudy day. I will om namah shivaya, or, honor the divinity that resides within. Namaste.
Men in suits are on television, debating
About our future, arguing
About our past.
The ice caps are melting, the air is warming and natural disasters
Are beginning to seem almost commonplace.
Oprah’s telling me how to clip coupons, save
Some money on the cost of milk and I’m paying
Four dollars a gallon for gas. No savings to speak of.
Living month to month to pay the mortgage.
And mom’s car sits, rotting
In the rain because storage is two hundred
A month beyond my budget.
Just let go of an employee with a three year old child today,
So I guess I helped create
Another American family without health insurance.
And people are fighting in the streets, and in the courts
threatening legal action against one another
for silly things
For problems that could have been solved,
With a little dollop of honest communication.
We’re still killing innocent people in Iraq
And nobody can say what “success” looks like there.
We’re still pumping poison into the veins of killers, to teach them
That killing is wrong, is immoral, is unethical.
And I’m thinking about how I’ll never be able to afford
To live in the neighborhood I grew up in;
The house that was paid for on one middle class salary.
And I’m thinking about how my kids
Will be paying twenty thousand a year
For a state school
And how I might have to go back on my promise
Of sending my offspring to public school.
What happened to our priorities.
What happened to our country.
What happened to each generation, exceeding the accomplishments,
The educations,
The success of the last.
I worry maybe, those days are done.
I think maybe all the billions spent making bombs,
Could have been used to get people off the street, give children health care, educate the masses, crack down on crime, help rehabilitate prisoners, teach illiterate people to read and succeed and a million, well a billion, well I guess, several billion, other things that would make our world a more peaceful, educated, and healthy place for everyone. But I guess these are the sort of beliefs that make me just another crazy liberal. These things are wishful thinking, they are naïve, they are impossible, they are unimportant when compared with the ‘larger issues.’ Or so I’m told.
This morning I sit slumped on the floor in my pajamas
the fuzzy polar bear ones you gave me your last Christmas
today they're threadbare and worn
and outside clouds are swirling up a storm
with pictures of you spread before me
snapshots of your life
I am reminded there will never be new images of you to add to this collection
I read the journal your friends gave
filled with thoughts and stories
and I cry along with the clouds
tears splattering my glasses with raindrops of love and pain and anger
so much so that the words and pictures of you become fuzzy and unclear
I never said goodbye to you
not really
They had a get together at Liz's house
but I asked them to leave me alone on that rain filled night
choosing instead to pack your clothes for Goodwill
and wrap up your dishes in old newspaper
For somehow the 12th seemed too early to celebrate your life and observe your passing
when on the tenth
you sat in my living room doing the crossword in the morning sun
leaving me one last kiss on the cheek when you departed
Your friends in Portland threw a wake
where I'm sure they told stories of your glorious dancing
your beautiful art
your endless generosity
and the amazing ability you had to live for today
to be in the moment
but I was scared and numb and in a surreal plane of existence then
so I stayed away
refusing again to say goodbye
You would have hated a funeral
the thought of burial a waste of earth in your mind
so we had you cremated
and today I feel especially guilty that you sit alone in a box in my house
rather than swimming with the fish
or blowing in the wind
or growing with the trees
or flying with the birds
being among the natural world you loved
but I'm selfish
and not ready to give you back to the earth just yet
On days when life is hard
and I don't want to call anybody else
I am reminded that you knew me better than I ever realized
in an instinctual, maternal way that no one else ever will
You who calmed my fears
eased my worries
inspired my beliefs
and encouraged my actions
Who today and tomorrow
and every other day I spend on this earth
I will think of
because my home has always been wherever you are
and I just need to say
Mama
thank you for this glorious life
and for having been you
Invite me in you
gracious curves creating a path to tranquility
away from a life abundant with responsibility and unfulfilled promise.
Envelop my cold skin
as clammy fingertips trace your smooth eyebrows and earlobes
and gentle kisses calm fluttering eyelids, ripe breasts, flushed red cheeks.
Our icy feet say hello again
and in the comfort of their awkward touch
the world falls away.
Together we float above life’s madness
in a sea of swirling light
your palm strokes the small of my back.
like the soft feathers of an angel.
You have come to rescue me I’m sure
and in this heaven of love found
we will go far away
leaving life for home.
On days like this
Where the sky is a wispy shade of gray
and the clouds can’t decide if they want to cry out loud or blow away to a warmer place
drizzle and drip down on us indifferently,
Where there are so few cars on the road
that when I walk my dog
I can hear the jingle of his little collar with each step,
Where most of the leaves have recently fallen from the trees
Fluttering to their silent, golden deaths
Leaving only a brave few clinging to withered branches,
On days like this,
where I sit alone in a coffee shop across town
Listening to classical music
And the conversation of two old men seated next to me,
Where I drink an Americano in my striped wool sweater that feels like home
And most baggy and unflattering, but most comfortable of jeans
I imagine that I am invisible to these people and lives swirling around me,
Because so often on days like this
I feel otherworldly
as I swaddle myself in thoughts of you.
Often in the fall, in the winter,
When it’s dark and cold outside like it is today,
When I daydream of tomato soup with grilled cheese in front of a fire somewhere,
I end up thinking of that cold December day I stood over your bed
And touched your stiff, bony hands
Your long fingernails; your swollen blue knuckles.
I remember it was raining so hard that day
That my socks were damp inside of my shoes
And my hair had begun to curl right along with the humidity.
I didn’t talk to you because
I didn’t know what to say
Other than to thank you for the years of
Of singing me Swedish lullabies while you played with my feet,
Of homemade pancakes and syrup, of pistachio pudding,
Of how my grandpa, your long lost partner in life, died on your birthday,
Of our shared fondness for crossword puzzles
Of your love affair with writing
Of our similarly fuzzy memories of anything past the moment we were in,
And of the rest of the quarter century of memories you and got to share.
But I didn’t say any of these things to you,
Rather I stood and looked at you in silence
Quietly thanking the universe for finally, at long last, letting you go.
And as I stood looking around at the small room of belongings that had become your life,
The clock radio, the map pinned to the wall, the diapers in the top dresser drawer, the bathrobe and slippers I got you one Christmas,
I wondered if deep inside somewhere
you were thinking about your two daughters who escaped life before you did
And I wondered if you were waiting for me to come visit you on that day
Since not an hour after I left
The phone call came over my chicken dinner, that you were gone.
I remember wondering why people who are dying have to look so ill
and I wish that I could have painted your fingernails one last time
because you always liked that
and I wanted you to feel pretty
as age had robbed you of your outer beauty so many years prior to that day...
And I still feel bad that little old me was one of the only two
Family members you had left to see you along your way out of this life.
And I hope you know now
That I still think of you,
That on quiet, gray days like this one,
you are a presence in my thoughts
And that sometimes, I can feel you so close by
that I realize that I am more like you than I ever thought I was
and that part of you, I think
is living inside of me.
Out there
butterflies perform orchestrated dances by the hundreds
a harmonious swirling symphony of nature's breathtaking colors
reds and greens and yellows and purples
flutter and float and swarm around me
like honey bees to the ripe fruit of a spring blossom
on shoulders and in sticky wet palms they land
winking their graceful and glorious wings hello.
Nearby
trees bleed thick syrupy red tears
a scarlet wonder used to treat human ailments
mother earth's way of healing
her lost, wounded children.
Atop a mountain
terrain is crowded with sweaty vegetation
a humidity damp and stifling
hangs in the air
heavy it sits upon lungs
and for miles now
i can see earth as it should be
uncontrolled and rejoicing in wild magnificence.
Down below
on the rio nappa
the wooden canoe is out of gas
a small chiseled man strips down
diving into the smooth undulating current
as if it were any other day's errand
tanned arms paddling towards a far heap of land
he disappears on the horizon.
Later
bats fly high above
dancing below bright starts twinkling
in the deep black endless sky
they swoop down within centimeters of our heads
to greet these foreigners hello
welcome they hum,
to our earth, uninterrupted.
inky darkness now arrives early
serenading afternoon windowpanes with pitter patter
juicy raindrops plummet heavy and free
as rusty leaves flutter to final resting places
drifting atop reflective puddles, down murky curbside rivers
dampen hair stuck to frozen ruby lips and flushed faces
children slosh in their wellies
a cold wintry death upon us
the season of dying has returned to remind
the circle of life always never-ending
calls forth remembrance of those gone
and anticipation of that which inevitably will come
though the season of rebirth still a lifetime away
as icy air embraces frostbitten ears and noses
darkness for many moons now remains
among violent winds and gloomy faces
those who miss the light
after drizzle and downpours
a gray sky in mourning opens its arms wide to the world
perfuming the air with thick heavy dampness
in a season of death
Like crystal
Like diamonds
Shiver, sparkle
Twenty, thirty, forty feet of glitter and chill twinkle in the silence above us
Glassy in appearance, clinging to their trunks just as
My stiff red fingers wrap tightly around your arm.
Side by side we walk, shiver
Further into white silence, into nothingness our feet
Tromp and clobber along, deep
Deep down they plummet
Heavy as led and cold as dead, the
Tips of our dry December noses,
Our toes, maybe our hearts these days too, and I say to you,
There are no birds today, and still, you look ahead at
The nonexistent cars that go slipping along, no
People on the sidewalk, we are two lone creatures in a whiteout
In the road, in the quiet alone of togetherness
In the impenetrable silence that is a frigid winter storm, this
Long time together storm, tonight we are
Serenaded as we stroll, sung to by the creaking and cracking
Of branches above being hugged, smothered even, by winter’s ice and it is here,
Into nothingness, into this great blizzard unknown, we go.
