Posts Tagged ‘small steps’

Small Things

Small things aren’t just important,

says my father. They’re everything.

And I think of how,

night after night, he’d lie

on his back on the floor

and bench press me

as I stood with one foot

in each of his hands.

Years later, every morning

he’d lift me with a phone call—

This is the Broadmoor. This is your

morning wake up call.

He’d say it in his snootiest,

haughtiest British butler voice.

And years later,

when we hold hands

he rubs his thumb across my thumb,

a small, familiar gesture of love.

Now, wishing I could hold

his hand while we sit

in different rooms together

a thousand miles away,

I can almost feel

the pad of his thumb

move across my knuckles

the way wind moves over water

and creates the weather.

It lifts me.

It’s everything.

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Eighteen Small Steps

Those who would climb to a lofty height must go by steps, not leaps.
—St. Gregory the Great, from a letter to Augustine of Canterbury

teach me crosswise
streets, how to believe
all directions are possible


at my next shindig,
inviting happiness
and grief
for a
ménage a trios


she’s got everything she needs
ever since she made best friends
with nothing


sitting on the bench
I wonder if adventure forgot
or I forgot
to send the invitation


I would like
to want
to be at a shindig,
but dang, this couch
is so darn soft


forgive me
if I spray paint your thoughts—
I just knew a little bright orange
would do you
a heap of good


what’s up
with all those shenanigans?
well, she said,
you can’t just have one,
can you?


I asked the quince
about pleasure—it said baby,
time to get reckless


what is there
not to love
about grace?
the shaman says
now try loving fear


nice idea, but whoever
says all answers
come from within has never
seen your belly button


what’s a rain dance
except a snow dance
just a few adventures early?


I think the world
is addicted
to paradox—
I think I am
addicted to the world


the world gave me light,
I wanted shenanigans—
oh foolish woman,
now surrounded by shenanigans
all I want is light


every once in a while,
but hey, world,
the rest of the time
let’s dance


it’s not that I forgot
to stand in the light
it’s just
that darkness
was holding my hand


indecision settled in
like a fog—every morning I practice
turning myself into a sun


will you like me better
if I cover myself in chocolate
said my sorrow


with authenticity
as my compass, every road
is the right road

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