midnight
learning to rhyme my thoughts
with the air
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged meditation, midnight, poem, poetry, wallking | Leave a Comment »
Sleep, of course. Long,
uninterrupted hours of sleep.
For a week. For a month.
For a year. You’d just put your head
on the pillow, and sleep
would come meet you
like a devoted friend, or like
a dog that will come whenever you call,
and snuggle with you all night.
And then, when you woke,
I would give you the certainty
that life is worth waking for,
that you are beloved,
that everything you do
makes a difference, and
by everything, I mean everything.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged friendship, giving, poem, poetry, purpose, sleep | 7 Comments »
Things are gonna get brighter.
—”Ooh Child,” The Five Stairsteps
In the photo, the girl is smiling.
I know all she is hiding.
If I could talk to her now,
I wouldn’t tell her much.
Wouldn’t warn her about
which boys will break her heart.
Wouldn’t tell her which jobs to avoid,
which years will last decades,
which friends will lie, which
day she should pay close attention.
But I would tell her that Nina Simone
was right when she covered The Five Stairsteps.
That things will be brighter.
The young me wouldn’t believe it, of course.
Because the healing hasn’t happened yet,
she has stopped believing it’s possible.
I might could slip that song into her
cassette mix. Even if she didn’t believe the lyrics,
she’d sing along. That’s the way she is.
And the words would land
in the branches of her heart
like the truest lyrics do. And build a nest there.
And when she lost her voice,
and when it got dark,
they would sing to her about the brightening.
Yeah, they would sing. They would sing.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged healing, music, nina simone, photography, poem, poetry, self talk | Leave a Comment »
There are moments I forget she is gone.
Perhaps when I am in the garden. Or painting
rocks. Or making dinner. And then I remember.
She’s gone. I cry less now, but still.
I cry. Of course. Because the cloth I use to wipe
my glass table. Because the vase I slip
marigolds into. Because the necklace
I am wearing. Because out of nowhere
the sound of her voice. Because
the book I am reading. Because
when I think of how much she loved me,
how much I loved her, I gasp and
my nose starts to tingle and my eyes
well, and I know she would tell me
not to cry, but I do. Because it’s a beautiful
and rare gift to love someone. Deeply. Because
she was my gift. Because I was hers.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged death, friendship, love, memory, poem, poetry | 4 Comments »
just doing my homework
said the rain cloud
the mesa still dust dry
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged drought, poem, poetry, rain | Leave a Comment »
And out of the manila envelope
came a new white hand towel
hand embroidered with colorful flowers,
each one a bright celebration
of what a small amount of thread
and a steady hand can do.
Another cloth, this one edged
in a red and white lace crochet,
seemed proof that framing changes everything.
A photo of two women laughing.
A pink ribbon holding it all together.
A pink sticky note, that read
in a neat, old-fashioned script:
To Rosemerry, from Secret Agents.
There are days I can hardly
believe my good fortune—
just when the headlines
are their worst, a stranger
will reach out with a wild
and tender kindness that frames
the moment with joy,
reminding me that I, too,
might stitch thoughtfulness
and beauty into everything I do,
then share it with the world.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged kindness, poem, poetry, secret, strangers | 5 Comments »
this old heart
wrinkled and graying
still learning to walk
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged aging, heart, love, poem, poetry | 2 Comments »
for Phyllis
I remember the day she chose me.
It was fall. I didn’t know then
I would come to love her, didn’t know
how trust would grow, like catnip, like oregano,
more robust, more wild every year.
I didn’t know how I’d been waiting to be chosen,
that she would help me find the wings I’d never felt,
never seen. That she would dare me to fly.
That she would be the wind.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged friendship, love, poem, poetry, student, support | 2 Comments »
I was so excited to drop the impromptu Valentine
in through the car window—a white heart
with a big blue eye at its center that I’d ripped
into shape from an old magazine cover.
It slipped through the open window
and landed just right on the driver’s seat,
the eye facing up, the heart facing the door.
Imagine my surprise when my friend Kyra
told me she hadn’t been in town today.
Really? I asked her, stunned. Really, she said.
Because who would think there were two
red station wagons in town with the passenger door
bashed in and the back full of camping gear?
Dear stranger in the red station wagon who parked in town,
I know I didn’t give you the heart on purpose,
but I’m so glad I did. Sometimes our mistakes
have so much to teach us. Now I know
how I want to treat strangers: Like beloved friends.
Like people I thrill to shower with love.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged friendship, love, mistake, poem, poetry, strangers | Leave a Comment »
He taught me you can never have too much love
or too much ice cream in the freezer. That it matters
how you shake someone’s hand. He taught me
to pile wet seaweed on a bare patch of dirt
so the earthworms will come to the surface.
He taught me how to cast, to set the hook, to filet.
He taught me to cheer for myself. Once,
he taught me to say no, and to mean it,
and we shouted it over and over into the phone,
our voices a joyful chorus of refusal. He taught me
that despite unceasing pain, you can still
be grateful to be alive. That it is possible
to love someone very different from you.
That you can go to different schools together.
He taught me to take life seriously, and then
to speak in made up languages and giggle till you cry.
He taught me you can’t save everyone, but
you can save a few. And it’s important that you do.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged daughter, father, poem, poetry, teaching | 7 Comments »
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