Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, daughter, language acquisition, mothering, verb tenses on May 13, 2013| 1 Comment »
Vivian Learns Present Progressive
Finn says to me yesterday, on Mother’s Day, “Mom, when is kid’s day?” My husband replied, “Everyday.” So in that spirit of the ongoing celebration of our children–how they teach us and undo us–here’s a poem published today in the beautiful Journey of the Heart blog.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, fear, labyrinth, life, poem, poetry on October 11, 2012| 2 Comments »
They’re higher than I would have thought,
these walls, and colder, too, the sunlight
only reaching the top of the maze. But I
have my thread and a crust of rye bread.
I am shuddering sooner than I’d imagined I would,
only six turns in. The sword is too heavy to carry.
I turn to the walls themselves, and say to them
what I have rehearsed to say to the minotaur:
What do you have to teach me?
Already it is unclear why I am here. Was I chosen?
Did I choose this? The walls say nothing at all.
They say, What does it matter why? You are here.
I drop the thread, eat the bread, lean the sword
against the wall and sing whatever tune
comes. The song ricochets in the narrow halls
and rises out of the maze toward the sky. I can see
it is blue. I can smell the wild roses that just this week
came into bloom, and though they are not in here,
they’re here. I ask the roses, what do you have
to teach me? They say nothing. They say,
it is not how to die, it’s how to be alive.
The minotaur, I hear his snarl. Part of me favors
to crouch. Part of me tucks the pink scent into my hair.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, being present, love, poems, poetry, relationships, time on April 17, 2012| 2 Comments »
I cannot make
the flowers bloom
any faster
than they are,
but I can
right now
bend
my knees
beside the barren
lilac bush
and notice
how it, too,
is beautiful,
all spindle and gnarl,
its branches not
too small, too big,
can choose
to praise
those tight,
gray fists of buds
for being so tight,
so gray.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, cairns, clarity, obstacles, path, poem, rocks, the way on December 20, 2011| 3 Comments »
Perhaps
these rocks
that look
like stumb-
ling blocks
are cairns,
and I
have, with
such diligence,
been kicking
them from
my way—
oh foolish
woman
who thought
that she
was lost.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, clock, now, poem, time on December 15, 2011| 4 Comments »
The watchmaker burns
the plans she’d drawn
and winds the blood
of her own clock. Drip.
Drop. She is delinquent.
She is crow. The only time
she tocks is now.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, tanka, the moment on October 21, 2011| 2 Comments »
there is a moment
like water
beaded on the icicle
just before it
drips
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, cosmos, tanka on October 1, 2011| 1 Comment »
Picking cosmos
pink and white
I know nothing
but cosmos
pink and white