Posted in Uncategorized, tagged brother, death, family, grief, loss, poem, poetry, sister on June 1, 2018| 3 Comments »
There was a time when I’d pull his hair out
if he sat too close to me on the couch.
Now, I curl into his right side,
lean my head on his shoulder,
feel the trembling of his chest
as he weeps. How good it feels
to be close to him as we grieve.
How familiar, the shape of his head,
the heft of his hand as he reaches for mine.
How deeply right, this leaning
into sorrow together.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, family, father, fireman, hero, life, poem, poetry on February 10, 2018| Leave a Comment »
for Billy Miller, remembering events on January 4, 2012
When the man pulled my father
from the icy waters of Lake Michigan,
he did not know years later my step-daughter
would need someone to buy her a sweater
so she would feel nurtured, did not know
that my son would need someone
to make a mosaic with him so that he
could feel loved, did not know
that my daughter would need
someone to tell her that she
was beautiful. When the man
pulled my father out of the water—
my dad had been fishing alone—
that off-duty fireman couldn’t have known
that years later this very daughter
would sit beside her father and hold his hand
and weep at the simple gift
of being able to hold his hand.
The fireman was doing what he knew to do—
to rush to the person in need of help.
He didn’t think then of the other lives
blessed by the man. Did not think
of the other lives he blessed with his hands
when he chose to try, though the odds
of saving the man were low.
He knew only to reach.
Years later, my mother still sleeps
beside the man that was pulled
from the winter lake.
Give us hands that know to reach
for each other—stranger, neighbor,
friend. Give us hands that unthinkingly
choose to save the family
we’ve never met.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged family, missing, poem, poetry, thanksgiving on November 25, 2017| 2 Comments »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged family, illness, poem, poetry, support on July 16, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Christmas, creche, family, parenting, poem, poetry on December 26, 2016| Leave a Comment »
In the crèche arranged on the piano each Christmas,
the clay face of the virgin mother is eternally beaming
at the miracle child in his swaddling clothes,
and the miracle child is sleeping, always peacefully sleeping,
no matter how loudly my son pretends he’s a race car, no matter
how many people are laughing in the kitchen.
And Joseph, he is looking out across the piano
as if staring through the stable, staring through centuries,
perhaps, as if he can already see the tables upended
in the temple, can already smell the sweetness
of shared loaves and the pungency of fish, can hear
Mary weeping, or is it me he hears, playing piano
and singing about the hopes and fears of all the years,
then pausing to ask my children not to argue, please,
and to use their kindest voices with each other—and they
continue to bicker. Meanwhile the shepherd and his sheep
gaze up at the crack in the wall in awe, as if there were stars there,
stars brightly shining, and yonder, breaking, a new and glorious morn.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged community, division, family, poem, poetry, unity on November 10, 2016| 6 Comments »
These, too, are your family,
any who would build a wall,
any who would throw a stone.
The other is your sister,
your brother, your mother.
Pick up the stones
and build fire circles
where everyone’s voice
can be heard.
Tear down the walls
and use the debris
to build bridges.
Tattoo these words
on your hands,
on your tongue:
we are all in this
together.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged deer, family, poem, poetry on July 9, 2015| 4 Comments »
Still in spots, oh!,
the fawn at the edge of the willows.
It tugged with startling ferocity
at its mother’s underside.
I wanted to stop and stare,
to linger there, to disappear
in the thicket and watch
as they grazed and nursed and slept.
Instead, I continued on toward
home at the edge
of the willows where there
were hungry mouths
to feed, and milk to warm,
and waiting beds.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged family, love, poem, poetry, singing, thanksgiving on November 28, 2014| 1 Comment »
I hear America singing, varied carols I hear.
–Walt Whitman
After the mashed potatoes were passed
and after the wine was sipped from the glass
and after the children had left their plates
and before we were ready for pie and cake
we sat around the table and sang
Hotel California, Scarborough Fair,
Morning Has Broken, Walk the Line,
Blister in the Sun, Wild Mountain Thyme
Moon River and My Romance,
Blood on the Saddle, If I Were a Rich Man,
and the words we didn’t know we hummed
or we la-dee-dahed until we found
a phrase to lead us in again.
It’s so like music, gratitude,
the way it draws us closer in
and makes the world feel intimate,
as if anything could happen,
even peace, even love.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged family, perfectionism, poem, poetry on May 6, 2014| 1 Comment »
In my family
my job was to
be perfect.
To get straight As,
the lead in plays,
to sing in tune,
to clean my room,
to not be loud,
to please a crowd,
to not say no.
I loved them so,
and this is why
I learned to lie.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged armageddon, family, gratitude, poetry, thanksgiving on November 25, 2013| 1 Comment »
It wasn’t today.
The plane took off.
Flew. Landed.
My brother arrived.
He drove us
through eight lanes of traffic
to a beautiful home
where it was so easy
to hug, to laugh,
to eat, to remember,
to relax, to not even
think that it
might have gone
another way, so easy
to smile, to give thanks.
