Stark Contrast

Day started with nightmare

Loss, loss, loss, loss, loss.

All day gratitude hovered

No loss, no loss, no loss.

Owl Asks

Down by creek
In dark of moon
great horned owl
six times asks who.

Who do I need?
Who do I feed?
Who is next to die?
Who is next to cry?
Who don't I see?
Who will I be?

Down by creek
In dark of moon
great horned owl
six times asks who.

Downshift

House downshifts after midnight.
Let sleep ring in with windchimes
Time to snuggle under quilt,forget
 five people four horses drowned in flood.
Time to snuggle under quilt, forget
teacher's bloody face after car hit bike.
Time to snuggle under quilt, remember
child's bright voice spelling new words.
Time to snuggle under quilt, remember
kitchen aroma of beef stew with bay leaf.
House downshifts after midnight.
Let sleep ring in with windchimes.

Repetition Reclamation

Comfort rests in memory
of  ordinary patterns shattered.
When fire consumed all hope,
death deconstructed dreams,
despair threatened life force,
I put foot in front of foot,
stumbled sightless until
path emerged from mist..
When ordinary patterns shake,
Comfort rests in memory.
What I have done, I can do
now and again and again.

Between

Come autumn equinox

life flickers, veil thins.

 

Doubts rise, death peaks in.

Who will I be? Who have I been?

Where will death take me? When?

What will begin and what will end?

Come autumn equinox

life flickers, veil thins.

Shapeshifter

 

Perhaps Grace is a mockingbird

who mixes up the songs

to make the broken whole.

 

Perhaps Hope is mountain mist

which floats in and out, out and in

to tempt the weary to begin again.

 

Perhaps God is a shapeshifter

 who flows from form to form

customized for each seeking soul .

Mirror Prayer

May the mirror I face
on the day of my death
reflect the essence
with which I was born.

Not Trash

Whose daughter is she?

Drinking Bud from a can

leaning on the street sign

holding out her own sign

"Can you give a girl a hand?"

Easy to dismiss her. Loser.

Trash. But what's her story?

Whose mother is she?

So Bright

Mountain fall

burns so bright

easy to deny

impending

winter white.

Warning

Mountain stood

tall, triangular

green with spruce.

I turned my head.

Walked ten yards

Admired maple flame.

Looked back, found

mist had erased

mountain. Gone.

Sanctuary

Both feet on ground,

wherever I stand.

Breath out, breath in.

Sanctuary is trust

I can connect to truth

wherever I stand.

Legacy

For a long time

I kept every stitch

you ever sewed.

I thought I would

unravel if I ever let

a single memory go.

Now I know I can

pass your love on

with each stitch I sew.

.

Birthday

She remembers that morning clearly,

the morning she pushed her first born

out into the air - pure urge, exhilaration,

amazement, awe, ravenous appetite.

Nurse laughed when she ate two trays,

rushed to kitchen for extra cherry pie,

described her daughte'rs suckling lips

as a tiny rosebud, opening. She couldn't

remember how to dial the telephone

but knew exactly how to delight

in warm curls between her breasts,

heavy head trusting her strong hands,

tiny fingers gripping her thumb for dear life.

She will remember that morning forever.

Widowed

 

Compared to him

I had life easy.

Compared to him

I took death hard.

Compared to him

I held on fiercely

Compared to him

I kicked and fouight.

When he died

I lost tomorrow.

When I lived

I found today.

When death comes
may I meet it  

with  good grace

I learned from him.

Two Lives Ago

She read the letter again slowly.

The handwriting was hers,

recognizable if neater, loopier.

She hadn't exactly dotted the i's

with hearts, but stopped just short.

She'd been nineteen, two lives ago.

 

She read the letter again slowly.

The themes still were hers,

connection, hope, phases of the moon.

She'd chosen blue rice paper stationary,

His eyes were a deeper blue, azure.

She'd been nineteen, two lives ago.

She read the letter again slowly.

The spirit was still hers,

though the man lay long dead.

She had laughed, loved, thrived

without him, as he'd promised.

She'd been nineteen, two lives ago.

...

Choice

 

Whatever

happens

I choose

how I

use it.

Remembering Joy

I am a serious person.

Laugher is not my music.

I seek peace, purpose,

forget to value happiness.

At new year I squirmed

when the rabbi extolled

as most holy, most precious

the gift of a happy heart.

Then I remembered earnest eyes

of oldest grand son when he

reminded me that strong words

go down easier with a smile.

I am a serious person.

Laughter is not my music.

I have to work at its tune.

I remember to value happiness.

Against the Unspeakable

Children writhe and scream
on cold hospital floor in Syria
Go still. Exterminated.

Orthodox Jewish virgins
naked, hid tender breasts,
fell shot into pits of Baba Yar.

Emit Til smiled at a white girl,
floated up beaten, bloated. Six
church girls exploded in Bombingham.

Tootsie, Hutu, dead, dead , dead,
crunched under wheels of jeeps
on river roads in Rwanda.

I vomit. Response is limbic,
Deeper than words, Unspeakable.
Shame. I cannot face my reflection

I  know I am of the species of
monsters who. laugh and kill
gloat and justify, dehumanize.

Rage. I am of that species.
Can't deny I imagine Adolf Hitler
handcuffed to a chair, me avenger.

Scimitar to his throat and  smile
on my lips. Howl in my throat,
his blood on my hands. No remorse.

Helplessness. Hitler is long dead by
his own hand. Today's genocidal killers,
psychopaths, monsters, I cannot touch.

I have no power. I can only hide and cower.
Today, tonight tomorrow, they may come
for me and mine. We will simply die.

I wash my face and remember.
my ancestors did not cower and die.
They fled Portugal's Inquisition, started new.

Sewed their gold and jewels into
the hems of their garments, faked a
costume party, chartered a boat,

Shame paralyses. Rage self destructs.
Helplessness is a deadly illusion..
King of Denmark put on the Jewish star.

Paul Kagame saved refugees in Hotel Rwanda
Nelson Mandella persisted in prison.
Rosa Parks sat. Dr. King marched.

Anne Frank wrote her diary, Otto Frank shared it.
Billie Holliday sang out lynchings strange fruit
Aushchwitz survivor wears Jewish star. solid gold.

I will vomit, but will wash my face,  find my feet.
In face of the unspeakable, I will struggle for words.
I will remember love has triumphed and can again.

I will not cower helpless, but will fight back, escape.
I will not be ashamed. but will immortalize the victims.
I will not rage but will organize to prevent, protect.

Anchor

hold fast to belief that
whatever happens
I can choose its use.

I will not release need
to transform energy of pain
into work.art, service,

I hold fast to belief that
each choice in each moment
is freedom, is power enough

Forward

Forward




No delete key in life.

Good, I think.

Too much responsibility

to decide what to undo.

I regret, repent, make amends.

Struggle to use each harvest,

assault, connection, loss

to grow, create, serve, love.

Nightmare

Falling
Flailing
Failing
to find
any hook
to hang
hope on
Failing
Flailing
Falling

Endurance

Port in storm is illusion.
Trick is riding the waves.
Storms pass. Weather changes.
Sea may be pearli by morning,
or green glass like seeds of the moon.
Sea may be warm as back porch buttermilk,
or chill as jangle of phone  past midnight.
Storm clouds will gather again.
Trick is riding the waves.
Port in storm is illusion.

Where is God?

In every choice,
one way, or any other.
Trick is discernment.

Thief

Cancer offers
no retribution,
steals what it wants
on it's own terms,
conceals  proximity
holds prey immobile.