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Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

One Unlearning

 

 

 

peeling away the film—

discovering how to sing

in a voice I can’t call my own

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Touched

 

 

 

The heron flies away

and its great blue wings

touch the surface of the water.

For a time, after the heron

is gone, the twin concentric wrinkles remain.

If you leaned far enough, you could

see your reflection in ripples,

your image warped by the memory

of flight. The water

returns to its stillness,

your face again your familiar face—

but that is not the way

with all memories.

Sometimes, we

never see ourselves

the same again.

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You are the elephant

and I the room,

you the lark,

the missing spoon,

 

you the question

that swallowed the answer,

you the music

inside the dancer,

 

and I am still

the waiting room—

or, perhaps, dear elephant,

a cocoon.

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One Togetherness

you and I

two banks

of the same river

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After hoping and trying

and failing and hoping

and trying and failing

and hoping and trying

and failing the mind

perhaps will finally say

I don’t know what comes next

and, startled by the sweet

clarity of this, the body

raises both arms, though

the mind didn’t tell it to—

yes, the arms rise weightless

and open, as if there is nothing

they aren’t ready to embrace,

as if the world as it is

might come rushing in.

 

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Holding Patterns

 

 

 

It’s not patience

that makes the cup

hold the tea, it’s

simple practicality.

Not love that makes

bowl hold ripened fruit.

But it is patience

that holds the phone

and says I miss you.

It’s love that doesn’t

hold at all.

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Despite Birdsong

 

 

 

In a cupboard

he opens often

he keeps a box

of resentment.

Something about

knowing it is there

makes him feel alive.

 

He touches the box

again and again,

lets the anger fill

whatever inside him

feels empty.

 

Hear it? Thumping

in him, pretending

it is a heart. It’s easy

to mistake.

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