Inspired by Camille Claudel’s sculpture “The Wave”
Almost like a fist
the great wave of war
rises now, arching,
all froth and force,
and in the single instant
before the crash,
before our demise is cast
in onyx or bronze,
before everything
we’ve made is smashed
like plaster on the floor,
this chance to conceive
the world as it could be,
the chance to take
each other’s hands
and hold them fast
so the terrible wave
can’t separate us.
The wave will break.
We will be towed and tossed.
My friends, it matters
that we stay together.
to see this sculpture, visit here
Posts Tagged ‘connection’
The Single Instant
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged camille claudel, connection, ekphrasis, moment, war, water, wave on March 5, 2026| 6 Comments »
One Garden
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, garden, interconnectedness on February 28, 2026| 4 Comments »
I am no longer surprised
when strange, exotic
blooms appear in my mind,
knowing now how seeds
arrive on the wind from everywhere.
Now, I am less likely to label
something weed simply because
I didn’t plant it myself.
At the same time, I want
to be discerning, knowing
whatever I choose to grow might
appear soon in the soil of you,
so I am cautious when sowing
bulbs of anger, saplings of judgment,
thorns of certainty.
I want us all to plant great beds
of unanswerable questions
and tend the mystery together.
How else might it change
what these hands do when I
trust every choice matters?
What Joins Us
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, question, river, stafford, uncertainty on February 3, 2026| 2 Comments »
At last the river is covered in ice,
a vast white sheet from bank
to bank. A woman, or a rabbit,
could use to cross what usually
feels uncrossable. I think
of William Stafford standing beside
the frozen Methow river, asking a question.
The silent river was his answer.
Later today I will put on my old navy coat
and my big old rubber boots and walk
to the shore with my satchel of questions,
the ones that writhe and twist in me,
the ones that make me tremble.
Perhaps, you, too, will bring your questions
to a shore where winter has hidden the song.
If you have no river, any quiet space will do.
We can stand there together
at the edge of no separation
to see which questions spill out.
No matter where we stand,
we can listen to the silence
that crosses all boundaries, listen,
together, and wade into the current
beneath all listening.
A Great Shining
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged breath, connection, impossible dream, love, moon, peace on January 23, 2026| 1 Comment »
inspired by Maya Stein’s 10-line poem form
What if, in this moment, every person on earth thinks of someone who makes us feel cherished, known, safe? What if we let ourselves linger in this moment of connection? What might happen inside each body? What might happen in the world as in unison our breaths begin to even and slow? Would the pulsing of our hearts begin to synch, the way heart cells in a petri dish come to keep time with each other? What is earth if not a great experiment in which we are all both observer and observed? How long could it last, this rhythmic communion between jailor and prisoner, oppressor and oppressed, between fighter and fighter, maker and destroyer, parent and child, liar and believer, all of us thinking of love? Foolish, perhaps, to imagine such impossible moments. But more foolish not to imagine such things. Even now, I’m thinking of someone. It feels like the moon is inside me.
Once I Wanted Only Openness
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged commitment, connection, fence, freedom, paradox, priorities on January 11, 2026| Leave a Comment »
Every day I tend it again,
this fence around our hearts.
I rebuild it each time I say no
to things that would take me away
from you. I rebuild it each time
I choose to be right here.
I rebuild it and thrill in the rebuilding,
each post of the fence is a love letter,
this fence I once tried to burn.
What If We All Met on That Bridge?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bridge, connection, present on January 8, 2026| 11 Comments »
after reading “Behave Beautifully” by Moudi Sbeity
Here is a stack of dictionaries
thick with words I never will know.
Here is the pen filled with the ink
of stories unwritten. Here is
the sky filled with stars I can’t name
and clouds that will not last.
And here, unseen, is the bridge
of the moment that links me
to all that was and all that is,
all that is real and all that is dream.
The bridge, as long as forever.
The bridge as solid as rain.
The long, beautiful bridge
vast enough to hold every word,
every story, every version
of what might be. It is the bridge
toward understanding. And here
is you. And here is me.
Before I Read the News
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, news, ritual on January 5, 2026| 22 Comments »
How courageous can I be to let all of life in?
—Leslie Odom, Jr. on The Hamilcast with Gillian Pensavalle
I press both hands
to my chest, then
look at the trees
and the road outside.
I imagine the world
beyond what I see,
cities, continents, space,
then close my eyes
to open.
I listen to what is here,
attune to the silence
that holds up all sound.
Feel my heart beat
against my palm.
Hello heart, I say.
Hello heart.
If I am to read the news,
I want to invite not only
my head but my body.
Want to receive it as if
I am river and sky
as much as I am human.
The ache of the news
is no less great,
perhaps greater, but
I know I am not alone.
In the barren branches
of my fear, the chickadees
come to sing.
How We Momentarily Become the Moon
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged attention, becoming, connection, moon on January 3, 2026| 2 Comments »
In the dark house
we watch the moon
rise through the window,
watch as its fullness
climbs into the sky.
For everything we see,
so much we miss.
But in this moment,
your hand in mine,
we give the moon
all our attention until
every part of us,
even our wounds, are
shining.
Almost Effortless
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, contentment, grace, nature, peacefulness, seeing, tree, walking on January 2, 2026| 4 Comments »
A humble contentment.
Because blue green spruce
by the creek bed.
Because ancient red
of sandstone cliffs.
This almost forgettable moment
not forgotten.
This small seeing.
This ease in being, unearned.
Because the tips of the spruce
are more silver, softer.
Because afternoon mist
somehow mingles it all.
Because sometimes when I try,
I cannot feel the connection.
This moment when trust is.
This sinking of my foot
into slick, wet earth.
This small thing.
This everything.
The Outing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, daughter, skiing, time on December 6, 2025| 2 Comments »
Because once I was an ocean
and now I am a mother,
because every single moment
is integral to ever after,
I give myself to this snowy hour
skiing into the woods with my daughter
and know that no matter how brief a day,
an hour lasts forever.
One Story of How We Make It Through
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, friendship, sadness on November 23, 2025| 4 Comments »
while kneeling in the chapel of despair
finding beside me
a friend
When We Share Our Broken-Open Hearts
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cocoon, community, connection on November 20, 2025| 2 Comments »
Together we weave
an invisible cocoon
fashioned from trust
and listening,
its fibers strong enough
to support a miracle,
soft enough to hold
even the tenderest
of wounds. In just days
a whole galaxy
emerges. See
how we spiral
together.
Life Lessons in an Uber in Atlanta
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged city, connection, driving, labor day, life lesson, traffic on November 15, 2025| 11 Comments »
At every opportunity
the man from Pakistan
brakes his own car and
waves his hand
to let the other drivers in.
One driver waves back.
Another offers an okay sign.
Another smiles and nods.
In this way, we go on.
His car is scented of oud,
sandalwood, musk and rose
as he carries humans
from one place to another.
He stops to let in the Jeep
on the right. The driver
joins us to move for a time
in the same direction.
In this way, we go on.
Sound Bath
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, present, sound, sound wave on November 1, 2025| 12 Comments »
Even now, imagine, we could step through
one of the infinite doors of the moment
and find ourselves in another life—
repairing a net on the banks of a vast river
or herding cattle down a two-lane highway.
Standing in line a block from a soup kitchen
or guarding the entrance to the Forbidden City.
Instead, we are here in the lives we inhabit
But press your ear to the other doors. Hear
the traffic. The sobbing. A swelling of symphony.
Gunshot. Thunder of feet. The whimper of an infant.
The world enters us in waves, waves that seep
through the doors and we wade in them.
Wading, we come to know there is no way
to not be touched by every other life,
no matter how distant. If you put your ear
to the moment, sometimes you can hear
every other ear listening for what you will do next.
With the Stones of Our Stories
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ache, aloneness, connection, stone on October 1, 2025| 8 Comments »
Every day a new atrocity.
Every day, the heart finds
a new way to ache.
Every day, our most scared
selves try to build a stone wall
around the heart, as if
to keep the ache away.
Every day our most sacred
selves dismantle the wall,
and use the same stones
to build bridges so we
might meet another
and hold them as they ache,
so the other might hold us, too.
One Other Version of Heaven
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged brother, city, connection, country mouse, sister on September 27, 2025| 8 Comments »
for my baby brother
peaceful as any mountain meadow,
this chance to walk a city block
with sirens and screeching trains
and flashing lights and car alarms
and my arm tucked tightly into yours
What No One Else Can See
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, daughter, love, mother, string on September 20, 2025| Leave a Comment »
Every day I fasten
my heart to yours.
with invisible strings,
strings so light
you might almost forget
they are there
until you start falling
from any edge
like disappointment,
like betrayal, like
forgetting you belong.
The strings don’t
keep you from falling—
that’s just not
how it works.
Nor could I ever
control you with them
like some well-
intentioned puppeteer.
But feel that tug?
It’s my heart
reminding yours
we’re connected.
And remember those
simple phones we made
with string and two cups?
When you need me,
make of your heart
a cup. I will do the same.
I may not catch
all the words,
but I’ll feel them
with you, wherever
you are, I’ll
feel them.