What were you doing when you last felt content?
—Ada Limón
And there, beneath the white tent,
beneath the blue sky, beneath the stars
I could not see, while spinning somewhere
inside a spiral galaxy, I closed my eyes
and let the sound of flute and piano find me,
an Irish song meant to be played with a wee lilt,
though the tune itself knew something of loss,
and I felt my lungs swell and my heart expand
felt my spine straighten and my soles ground,
and I floated inside the music, stunned and surprised
by the vibrant inheritance of being alive. I hummed
with full cellular resonance and then, I was crying—
a warm spilling of tears—for what?
for beauty? for loss? for living with both in one breath?
What was it the tears meant? Oh friends,
as I felt it all with no attempt to push it away,
I was wildly, alively content.
Posts Tagged ‘tears’
Contentment
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged contentment, music, tears on August 24, 2022| 4 Comments »
Ode to the Saltine Cracker
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged food, grief, mother, son, tears on December 9, 2021| 12 Comments »
Oh, salty square,
oh, bite that turns
to savory paste,
oh, flaky wafers
stacked in long
white plastic sleeves,
you fed the boy
who could never
eat enough,
attended him
through online school,
travelled with him
in his book-laden backpack,
fueled him as he
researched twin-
turbocharged V-8 engines
and fawned over
Italian luxury cars.
Finding you today
out of place
on the shelf beside
my thesaurus,
an unopened box,
I crumpled,
longing for the boy
who would have opened you.
I’d love to clean
your stupid crumbs
from the couch.
All afternoon, I taste it,
this daily salt
that falls to my lips.
In a Circle Six Feet Apart in Town Park
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, Heartbeat, joy, music, singing, tears on May 26, 2020| 4 Comments »
Perhaps we stumbled
on the words, perhaps
we forgot a note,
forgot a bridge,
bumbled our entrances,
fumbled our parts,
but we sang, oh yes,
we sang into the low golden light
of summer, sang
because joy, because
harmony, sang because
lonely, because fear,
sang because, tears
spilling down our cheeks,
we could sing, oh friends,
before we said goodbye,
we could sing.
Golden Slumbers
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Beatles, Golden Slumbers, home, music, tears on March 6, 2020| 4 Comments »
Please pretty darlin’, do not cry.
—Paul McCartney, “Golden Slumbers” adapted from Thomas Dekkers’ “Cradle Song”
And if the candle noticed
that I played the song six times,
it didn’t say anything.
And if the pan were aware
that I struggled to find a harmony,
it kept the failure to itself.
And if the kitchen noticed
that I continued to sing the song
long after the recording was done, well—
The onion did its best
to mask any tears
that no one was there to see.
And if once there was a way
to get back homeward, well,
perhaps, perhaps it will appear again.
*To listen, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbcvf8a5BwM
After Six Days of Holding It Together
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged airport, daughter, grief, impermanence, parents, poem, poetry, tears, vulnerability on July 25, 2019| 9 Comments »
It wasn’t until I had passed through security
and found my way into Concourse B
that I found myself sinking into a chair
across from a giant Vienna Beef poster
and began to weep. And once they began,
the tears wouldn’t stop. Nor did I try
to stop them. I had wondered in the ICU
where they were. Had wondered
again at my parents’ home. It was strange
to be so level—not cold, really, and not numb,
but oddly steeled. It was a relief, really,
to sob into my hands. To let grief take over.
To be a maidservant to fragility.
What a gift to be sideswiped with the truth
of our vulnerability. What a blessing
to be baptized in my own helplessness.
Over the loudspeaker, they announced
that a plane was delayed. As if any of us
really know when we’ll depart, when we’ll arrive.
When the tears dried, I stood. Walked
to my gate recalibrated. Called my parents
again because I could. Because I could.
In the window, I smiled at my watery reflection,
how it almost wasn’t there at all.
Ode to Tears
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, poem, poetry, tears on June 7, 2019| Leave a Comment »
The way day doesn’t fight
the dim before night. The way
shore does not resist the river’s rise.
The way air does not refuse
the beat of wing—that’s the way
I want to let tears come.
Why do I try to force
them from falling?
Not that it works anyway.
Still, this defiance, this struggle
to appear unmoved. And why?
When there are children who laugh
and a sky that blues and stories
that break us and laughter that
seizes us? Why try to pretend
we are not changed by the way
a child loves her mother or
a friend perseveres through cancer
or the way a math teacher reminds us we have
86,400 seconds a day to spend
and if we don’t spend them,
they are gone. It is logical to weep
when met with beauty, it is practical
to let the tears release instead
of all this stupid pretending that
we are too cool or too smart or too
sophisticated to be stirred.
No, better to notice when our toes
are dipped in the grand stream
that unites us all and let that water
move right through our eyes—
better not to try to explain it.
Better to wade in the course of tears
and refuse any boat that would keep us
from touching the water. After all,
we know how to swim. After all,
there are so many reasons
to give in to who we are.
Some Days Are Difficult For Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged loss, poem, poetry, tears on May 16, 2018| 3 Comments »
Longing is the hardest thing to give up.
—Jim Tipton, “What is This Place I Have Come To?”
Some days can’t end soon enough,
when the heart, so full of love,
breaks and breaks again—
for beauty, for loss.
And the eyes can’t cry
another damn tear
but they do anyway,
I would rather not
cry anymore, but God,
thank you for letting me
be one of the ones
who can’t help but weep,
whose house is built
too close to the water.
What a gift to feel this horrible ache
like a lantern, golden
and soft, guiding us
deeper and deeper
into our humanness,
leading us closer
to each other, even
though we have never felt
farther away,
and though the stars
are out and at last,
thank god, it is night,
we have never
been more awake.
One Story
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged compassion, poem, poetry, tears on April 28, 2015| 1 Comment »
here, I’m thirsty
said my cheek
to your tear