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Posts Tagged ‘poem’

 

 

 

cleaning off my shoes

before walking through the mud,

and Love says to me,

what? do you think

I am going to carry you?

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It is the child of cold and warmth.

It is right it should show up

both cloudy and clear,

this union of opposites,

shaped like a spear, piercing

the silence with dripping, dripping.

It forms itself

the same way it disappears.

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Apparently no one told the tickle in my throat

that this was a silent retreat.

All it wanted to do was explore the sound

of throat clearing, the sound of cough.

 

All around me the sound of nothing

but breathing and sitting, but in me,

this tickle saying Notice me, Notice me.

Here I am and what will you do about it?

I told the tickle, If I were freeclimbing,

I would ignore you. My life would depend on it.

 

The tickle said, but you’re here,

here in a quiet room, and your life is at stake

in a much different way. What are you willing

to notice? What do you wish away?

Isn’t this just one more way you tell yourself

life would be better if it were different?

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Consider the generosity of silence,

how it holds the space between icicle drips,

how it meets squawk and howl

and laugh and sob with the same acceptance,

the same respect. How it asks nothing of the world

and yet is always there waiting

beneath the passing car, the passing thought.

 

I don’t want to live my life without knowing you,

silence, you the great loom on which all life is woven,

you the wisdom with nothing to say.

 

I want to invite you into all the rooms of my heart,

want to know the ways you permeate me,

how you inform every cell.

 

I want to find you inside every word, to know

in all my speech the silence that supports it.

 

I want to know you, silence, you who was here

before the big bang and you who continue to grow.

You who touch the seas and the barren rock,

the snow covered mountain, the meadow of mud,

who touched the first leaf and met the first cry,

who will touch the last leaf, who will meet

the last song. And go on.

 

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And Just Like That

 

 

 

the deep field of snow

with its crystals and diamonds

turns to mud

 

and the stem of purple orchids

drops its blooms

until it is only stem

 

and we, too, rearrange

and become not beauty

but its source

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Mom, she said, is it true? And it wasn’t

that I’d tried to keep the truth from her,

it just never came into conversation,

old horses are sometimes used for glue.

 

Yes, I said, wishing I could soften the message. It’s true.

She knew its truth already, but don’t we all

sometimes long to be wrong? New tears dammed

in her eyes before they fell. Is that really

 

the world I belong to? she rued, then buried

her face in the couch. Two hours later,

I thought her same thought as I read the news:

Anti-Semitism. Bribery. Child sexual abuse.

 

I wanted to hear the stories weren’t true.

Oh world, so broken, still, unglued, I choose you.

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One Tuning

 

 

you and I—

two notes in a minor chord

longing for resolution

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One More Rejection

 

 

in the cathedral of failure—

learning to bow to our weakest self

and rise emptier, more full of song

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I didn’t know I would love you more

when you were no longer strong—

you were so tender then, and soft.

And gone. They wouldn’t let me keep your hair.

I kept a strand anyway. I wear it

in a locket chained around my neck.

Sometimes I am strong enough

to open it. Sometimes I am strong enough

to weep for what was lost.

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letting the sun

shovel the drive—

the morning and I supervise

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