Again I search the drawer
for my small silver spoon
with the Space Needle
on the handle, the one
my mother bought me
when I was not yet two
and we lived in Seattle.
How I loved that spoon,
bringing it with me everywhere
I’ve moved—to college, grad school,
to the top of a mountain,
to a low river valley. I love
the shape of it, sure,
the way the bowl of the spoon
is pointed and shallow,
perfect for small bites
of vanilla ice cream.
Mostly, what I love
is thinking of how my mother,
who had so little then,
wanted to buy her daughter
a treasure. It’s been years
since the last time I touched it.
It’s disappeared many times,
my own young children as enamored
with the spoon as I, and so
I have found the spoon behind the couch
or beneath their beds or left outside
on the arm of a lawn chair,
sometimes even back in its slot
in the drawer.
So for years, I’ve assumed
the spoon will return.
To this day, I don’t think of it as lost.
How could I, when every time
I eat yogurt or ice cream or oatmeal,
I look in the drawer for the spoon,
which is to say every day I touch the spoon
with my mind, every day I remember
the way a mother bought her daughter
a treasure, I think of the love, and every day,
even when it’s not here, it’s so here.
Posts Tagged ‘lost’
What Can’t Be Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, gift, lost, mother, spoon on July 22, 2025| 4 Comments »
Not Exactly Lost Near the Bitterbrush Trail
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, nordic skiing, presence, snow on February 24, 2025| 6 Comments »
In the flat, low light
of morning there
is no way to see
the trail in the valley
of snow, and so,
new to this place,
I let myself not know
where I’m going.
I move more slowly,
let myself be led by
the trail as it appears.
Each moment is like
a new invisible map
that proclaims again
and again
You Are Here.
Sitting with Rachel in the Morning
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, found, friendship, lost, rachel on June 11, 2023| 7 Comments »
The secret, she says, is to put yourself
in the mindset of the thing that is lost.
And so it is she finds her lover’s shoes,
her misplaced keys, the coin I thought
was missing. It’s her superpower,
she says. I just think to myself,
if I were a key, where would I be?
For years, I have felt this—
how she imagines her way inside me,
enters me like sunshine inside water,
shining until, I, too, feel found.
Unlost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged boat, knowing, lost, path, sea, trust on February 1, 2023| 7 Comments »
The day is a rudderless path
and still I cling to star charts,
to maps. As if knowing
a destination is synonymous
with purpose. If the wind
should steal the maps,
would I rush to make them anew?
I say there is beauty
in the drift, yet I keep
carving new oars.
I am learning to love
what a day is.
Sometimes, I trust
what is here.
In Copley Square, Off the Green Line, One Block from Trinity Church
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Boston, found, lost, people, place on March 25, 2022| 1 Comment »
In Copley Square, off the Green Line, One Block from Trinity Church
I stepped off the train into the subway station,
ran to the news stand to look at candy,
then turned to ask mom, Can we buy it?
Blur of strangers. Thunder of trains.
Voice of man announcing arrivals.
Heart pounding. Heart pounding.
Where is my mother?
Child crying. Stale scent of piss.
Did she leave me?
I ran through the turnstile, then up, up,
up to find sidewalk, taxis, traffic, sirens,
businessmen, tourists, panhandlers,
and the smallness of myself,
a seven-year-old girl alone in a city
a thousand miles from home.
That was when I learned
you could know exactly where you are
on a map and still be lost.
That was when I learned
how desperately the heart
longs to be found.
One Not Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, mushroom hunting, walking on July 28, 2021| Leave a Comment »
charting our course
using mushroom rings—
earthbound constellations
Lost:
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged fool, inner life, lost on June 6, 2021| 2 Comments »
What happened to my inner fool?
So serious—as if she forgot how
to joke, how to tease, how
to fall down and come up laughing.
Just today she wore a prune face
for real. She slapped at any hand
that would tickle her. I keep waiting
for her to crack a grin and say,
Fooled you. I remember the jingle
of the bells on her hat, spontaneous
music, the sound so bright my heart
sat up like a good dog, each tinkling
a bell calling me home.
Advice to Self: Get Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, love, map, move, path on October 27, 2020| Leave a Comment »
To move forward, move forward.
But first, get lost.
Really lost. If you have a map,
burn it. Not that there’s
anything wrong with a map.
But you must recalibrate
the one using it. Let her not know
where she is. And if she does know,
perhaps through rote,
perhaps through muscle memory,
then spin her around
with a blindfold on,
the way kids do when pinning
a paper tail on a donkey.
Spin her until she has no idea
which direction to walk with that tail.
Spin her until she falls.
And then let her do as St. Francis taught—
let step in whatever direction
her head is pointing.
Let her trust that any direction she steps
can be the right way forward,
every path can be a path toward love.
Things That Can Be Lost
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, present moment on July 28, 2020| 7 Comments »
The way, of course.
Your mind, your head,
your hope, your heart.
Face. Your footing. Virginity.
Shirt buttons. Coat buttons.
Breath. Bearings.
Balance. Your deposit.
Your dignity.
Respect. Perspective.
Quarters and pens
between the car seats.
Your accent. Your appetite.
My trust. Baby teeth.
Your innocence. Sunglasses.
Your job. Your cool.
Your shirt. Your gut.
Your grip. Your hair.
The key to the house.
The key to your car.
The key to staying calm
when something crucial is lost.
Like time. Like memories—
the ones in which we had no clue
just how much we had to lose.
Like our nerve. Like our fear.
Like this day, our only chance
to show up. Like this now,
our next chance to let go.
That Song
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, loss, lost, map, music, song on July 7, 2020| 2 Comments »
I want to slip into the song
you sang, the one with verse
about loss. I want to hang
on its notes as if they were branches
I could swing from, want to climb
through its chorus, want to meet it
in its rests, want to offer it tea.
I want to ask the guitar
about your fingers, about
how they knew where
to find the melody. And how?
I want to speak with the loss itself,
want to ask it if it’s sure its lost,
want to offer it a map made of apples
and wings and moon.
I want to hear the silence after
the song, and then beg it, beg it,
to keep singing.
After Eleven Years of Walking the Corn Maze
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged corn maze, found, lost, poem, poetry on October 20, 2019| 3 Comments »
I said to my daughter, This time
let’s go without the map.
Never before did it occur to me
it might be more fun to be lost.
There were paths through tall dry stalks,
yes, but perhaps they were more—
an intimate landscape inviting me
again and again to lose myself now,
to lose myself now. It is harder to do
that it seems. The rustle of dry leaves,
the scent of earth, the blue sky overhead
like true north. But lost, I kept finding,
and found, I kept losing, and all
the while I kept laughing, oh, the joy
of putting one foot in front of the other,
the joy in not knowing which way
the path might turn next.
Shower
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, flowers, lost, mother, poem, poetry, road on June 5, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Beside the dirt road
we find a whole bouquet’s worth
of purple penstemon,
pink wild roses, orange
globe mallow, and countless
yellow weeds. My daughter
picks them, a bride to joy,
and though there is thunder
it doesn’t rain, except for petals,
yellow sweet clover, that
she sprinkles along the dirt
to leave a trail behind us,
just in case we get lost, Mom.
she says. Sometimes love
seems to rise right out of the dirt
and damned if somehow
on that one-way road
I didn’t get wholly, beautifully,
heart breakingly lost.
Direction
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged field, lost, path, perspective, poem, poetry on September 24, 2018| Leave a Comment »
lost in this meadow
deep in the grass
so easy to think
there is no path—
ask the mice
ask the stars
What the Lost One Said Back
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, poem, poetry, self talk on September 24, 2018| Leave a Comment »
It is not so bad to be lost.
Being lost only rankles when you’re sure
you are heading somewhere.
But once you’ve been lost long enough,
you stop believing in arrivals.
When you are lost, you can walk
in any direction, toward that mountain,
for instance, without worrying
you should be walking toward work.
You can smell the frying of peppers and onions
in oil and be led by your nose.
When you’re lost and don’t feel any need
to find a way, every path leads you
exactly where you need to go.
You think it’s so important to have direction,
to follow the steps to a goal.
I can tell you feel a bit sorry for me,
poor lost soul, And then with a look
at your watch, off you go to your next place
to be. You gaze lands down the road,
your foot urging the gas. But if you went slower,
what would you see? And if you didn’t know
how the path goes, where else, where else
might you go? Who else might you be?
And I, I will wander, perhaps, among
the chamisa and sage. Who knows
what might happen next?
On the Way to the Airport
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, path, poem, poetry on June 1, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Just because we can’t imagine
what it will look like, this path,
doesn’t mean it won’t appear.
Just today, I took a detour
off the interstate when a rolled semi
closed down all the lanes.
The GPS suggested
a back road, which turned
into dirt road, which turned
into dozens of switchbacks,
one hairpin turn after another
rising up and away from the route
I had planned. The GPS died.
No one else going the same way,
which always makes a mind wonder.
Just because we have little idea
where we are doesn’t mean
we are lost. And being lost
doesn’t mean we aren’t right where we
are meant to be, off on our own,
more alert than before
amongst the ten thousand
shades of evergreen.
Eventually, the detour proved true,
and I was back on pavement,
then back on the interstate.
the taste of dust on my lips.
Bliss in Fifteen Minutes
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, path, poem, poetry on October 1, 2017| 4 Comments »
Lost in the woods
I tell myself it is not so bad
to be lost—
just look at the curve
of that red rock wall,
just listen to that wind,
how it finds everything.
How lost can I be?
The scent of juniper
finds me again, again,
again.
Strange Prayer
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged lost, poem, prayer on December 20, 2015| 1 Comment »
When we know
we are lost
it seems
so obvious
to stop,
pay closer attention,
ask for help.
May we always
see
how
we
are
lost.
Classified
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged classified, found, losing the self, lost, poem, poetry, possibility on February 8, 2014| 3 Comments »
Lost: One woman, fortyish,
brown hair, tall, hazel eyes,
wearing black boots, jeans,
maroon sweater. Last seen
walking toward the edge of
what she thought was
possible. Can be identified
by a freckle on her left
pinkie finger. If seen,
ask her if she found the edge.
If she says yes, tell her to go
get lost again. That any edge
she can find is an illusion.
Tell here there is no
reward for her return.
A Little Self Talk on a Snowy Evening
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged found, home, lost, poem, poetry, self talk on January 30, 2014| 1 Comment »
A Little Self Talk on a Snowy Evening
You are surely lost.
When is the last time
you knew the way home?
Was it back at that gas station
where you bought the chips
before you pulled out into the night?
Though even then the snow
was hurling its white fists into your lights.
But that was before your heart started
leaping like a startled deer into the
oncoming lane of your throat.
Oh darling, who are you kidding.
You were already lost even then.
Sure you could have pointed
to a dot on the map and said,
Exit 179, Here I am. But that
is just the game we play.
Something to satisfy our jumpy brains.
You have been lost since the day
you first could say your name,
the moment you knew yourself
as other, as separate, as something
that could be lost. Sometimes,
like now, when you think you
don’t know where you are,
see if you can lose a little more.
Your certainty. Your words. Your ideas.
Your shame. And maybe then,
off the map, out of hope, exposed
and unknowing, maybe that
is home.
Making It
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged celebration, found, lost, poem, poetry on January 20, 2014| 2 Comments »
Not once did I think I was lost today
in the trees, but part of me wished
I were lost. It wasn’t the lost part so much
I was craving, but the thrill of feeling found.
Once I was lost in a strange city. I had
stepped off the tram at the stop where
the cathedral was. We were going to visit,
my mother and brother and I.
I went straight for the station’s candy stand, and stared
at the brightly wrapped sweets, then turned
to ask my mom for one. And she was not there.
Sure she had left the station, annoyed with my wanting,
I ran up the stairs toward the light
of the street. But she was not there.
Meanwhile, on the green line, my mother
had fallen asleep. Mom! said my brother,
Mom! When she woke, I was gone. She was sure
we were playing a trick. She checked under
all the seats. The adjacent cars.
She was without her ten-year-old girl in Boston.
I lost my mommy, I told the policeman.
He was standing right there on the corner.
He wiped my eyes, then took my hand
and walked me to the cathedral.
Out front, a man was having a seizure.
His arms flailed. His tongue wagged.
He flopped about on the square. Don’t worry,
the policeman said to me. He walked me right past.
Candles. Candles everywhere. Singing.
And stained glass. And marble statues.
And not my mother.
At the station, the policemen gave me candy.
As much as I wanted. M & Ms and Starburst.
I told them where we were staying in the outskirts.
They drove me there with the sirens off.
And though I was not lost today,
I still had in me something of the joy
that I had on that day when I was recovered
and delivered safely, through wildly good luck.
And why not feel joy. Today is as good as any other day
to celebrate finding my way home, no matter
how well I know my way around these woods.