Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘parenting’

 

 

 

The night is enormous—

big enough to hold us both

in a way that make us

seem close.

This is why I speak to you

through the stars—

not because I think

that they can hear,

but because I pray

you can.

Read Full Post »

 

 

 

I tell myself this is how love begins,

with a grumble. A rock in the shoe.

The flowers dead. Sleet.

This is how love begins, with taunting.

With mud on its feet. It begins

when we can’t imagine loving.

It begins when there is no light.

This is how love begins. When

we’re too exhausted to fight,

and as we slump, a door appears,

and we can’t imagine not

walking through it.

 

Read Full Post »

In Room 224

 

 

 

My daughter is still asleep

after stealing the sheets

all night. I finally let her

have them all and I’ve risen

to watch the snow not fall

outside the window.

It is gray, and from where

I sit on the floor, I’m not sure

if it’s gray because it’s too early

for sun or because it’s cloudy.

I don’t want to move

or make a sound—

would rather not wake

my daughter. They are rare,

these moments alone.

 

A truck rattles by outside.

I notice I am noticing the truck.

That’s a lot of noticing

for something so insignificant,

I think to myself,

then I’m startled by a laugh,

a full belly laugh, in the bed

beside me. My daughter, dreaming,

can’t stop giggling.

God, I think, it’s great

to have a body,

and on this cold, gray morning,

gratitude finds me and

body slams me

with my wild luck,

pins me with joy

to be this very woman

on the floor in room 224

not at all alone.

 

Read Full Post »

Five Cents

 

 

 

Finding by chance a buffalo nickel

my son decides to spend his fortune

on a girl he’s never met

who woke one morning

with cancer in her marrow—

 

he tells me he’s thinking

a lot about death,

and he’s scared,

and I tell him yes,

it’s scary.

 

Later, I look out the window,

and though there’s not a hint

of leaves on the trees outside,

I feel some certainty

about green and summer,

 

and I’m amazed at how

just when we think the world

could not get any colder,

we are reminded what even

a tiny bit of warmth can do.

Read Full Post »

Western Slope Moms! Join me for a writing class this Saturday, 9-1, in Ridgway–no experience except mothering necessary. Read all about it and register here: Lost in Motherland: Writing to Discover Who We Are(n’t)

Read Full Post »

At the Candlelight Vigil

 

 

 

Mommy, she says,

her face still warm in candlelight,

why did you start to cry—

and I hear not just curiosity

but the itchy vest of embarrassment.

 

I don’t tell her

the math of the world

is just too sad,

perhaps I cry more

because for a moment I believe

the words I tell her—

it’s going to be okay.

Read Full Post »

How It Transforms

 

 

 

a pinch of cumin,

a pinch of salt, the scent

of lemon and ginger—

tell me, what else I should have done

with my anger

 

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: