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Posts Tagged ‘authenticity’

Even in a Time of Intolerance

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on February 13, 2025| 17 Comments »



“We all have a part in shifting the story.”
                  —Joy Harjo, 23rd US Poet Laureate


There is, in an overfull classroom,
a woman teaching not only history,
but compassion. There’s a barista
making hearts in the foam
of every cappuccino she serves.
There’s man helping another man
on crutches as he struggles to cross
the icy street. There’s a library room full of women
chanting about praying for their enemy.
There are students raising money
to help those with breast cancer and AIDS.
Two girls are laughing for the joy of laughing
’til their faces are tear-streaked
and their ribs and bellies are sore.
There’s a poet who pours courage and music
into every word she shares with the world.
And another woman hears those words
and thinks, “Me. That poet is talking to me.”
This is how we change the world one kind act,
one true word, one long laugh at a time. Because
now, that woman is ablaze with wondering:
What is my part in shifting the story?

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The Choosing

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2024| 10 Comments »


 
 
Perhaps I no longer believe in happiness
as the goal. Not that I am against happiness,
but being in this very uncomfortable moment
with little light and a vicious chill, my arms wrapped
around my growing girl, both our hearts breaking
from sorrow and fear, both of us too well aware
of what can be lost, well, I would not trade this moment
for any wide-grinned hour of beach and sun,
wouldn’t rather be anywhere else with anyone—
I would choose again and again to be here
on the dark sidewalk with my girl in my arms,
our hearts so raw, the space between us so warm.
 

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Making a Difference

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on May 27, 2023| 17 Comments »


            for my daughter
 
 
She is the hero of this story,
not because she killed an enemy
or fought a beast or traveled
to a distant snowy and hostile land.
She is the hero because she stayed,
which is sometimes the hardest thing to do.
She is the hero because she is kind.
Because she cries in the movie
when the letter from a dead man
arrives to talk about love.
Because every day she finds ways to laugh.
She is the hero because she holds my hand.
Because she teases me with no mercy
and knows all my flaws
and still tells me she loves me.
Because sometimes she’s scared.
Because she wakes every morning
and shows up for the day,
even though she hates mornings,
though she has seen unspeakable things,
she wakes up, opens her hands,
her heart, her eyes, her ears,
and lets life fill her.
And the next day,
she does it again.

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Last Time

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on May 8, 2023| 7 Comments »


            for Lorrie Gardner
 
 
She was weeping that day,
the last day I saw her.
She stepped out of the shadow
into the late October sun,
and she held me on the sidewalk.
And I held her, too.
And we cried.
How many times
had we sat in the soft light
of her classroom
and laughed about things
the students had said?
We planned parties and
field trips and poetry lessons.
We spoke about goals for my children
and goals for ourselves
and kids losing teeth and
ways to teach vocabulary.
We spoke of divorce
and dance, jitters and singing,
ski technique and running
and feeling displaced.
On that last day I saw her,
I don’t remember what we said.
But I remember the open look of her face—
the way she didn’t try to hide her grief,
the way she didn’t try to avoid mine.
Of course we didn’t know then
it would be the last time.
Perhaps a younger version of me
would judge the memory,
would wish we had been smiling,
but I am so grateful to remember
the truth of that moment:
her broken open heart,
my broken open heart,
our arms around each other
with love so fierce, so soft.

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One Present

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 26, 2019| Leave a Comment »

 

 

no ribbons, no bows,

no fancy wrapping, no box—

you, the very gift

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