Trees

My back

is strong

like a piece of bark

it has its edges

but it is stable,

it stands tall–

it is stillness

and silence

and me.

 

These elements

of control

have never been

my friend.

 

Illusive fears

of loosing

a self

that I had forged

by lack of force

the word loss–

I could write odes

to loss

and sonnets

to loss

and haikus

to loss

and I would still

remained

lost

in the same sentiment

 

Who am I?

 

Where do these attachments

leave me?

Where did I acquire them?

 

Did death bring up something

deep inside of me

that always needed healing?

 

An unknowingness of stability,

the entrance of doubt?

 

I am here, writing,

wondering,

thinking back to trees with hearts

written in their sides.

 

October 8, 2016

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An Empty Space

There’s an empty space inside you

that no one else can steal

 

There’s an empty space inside you

and, I assure you, it is real

 

Curl up with tea and blankets

open up a book or two

 

And relish the sweet nothingness

each empty page brings you

 

Nature has its pleasures;

nature has its pains

 

The one thing nature tells you:

we will never stay the same.

 

Out with soul and romance!

Rejoice in the heaven of song!

 

No one really knows you

No one can tell you you’re wrong

 

In this spacious nothingness

there’s no wanting, there’s no pride

 

Good and bad are memories

There’s no reason left to hide.

 

August 28, 2016

 

Home

Let them

fall out of me,

like rain,

these words on a page,

they are my blood

four drops in a row

you know

they’ll have me running,

forgetting,

wondering,

“What was,”

and, “What is…”

 

Let the open door

remind me,

remind you

that our hearts

are not just our house;

they are our home

and the rooms they have to fill,

honey–

they’re already filled with Love.

 

Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful mothers out there! 

May 5, 2016

About You

The day

I write

a poem

about you–

then

I’ll start

considering

love.

 

Until

then,

leave it

on my front step,

off with the paper

and my morning coffee;

let me read about it

in books,

watch movies

that make me cry.

 

I don’t know why

this song

keeps on singing,

over and over

in my head–

now remind me again

of that thing called love.

 

“A watched pot never boils,”

and well– a docked ship

never sinks

but land never did make

for a skilled sailor.

 

I will flip through these pages

and keep dipping my ink,

deeper and deeper

into my mind

until one day,

perhaps,

my heart

finds

its way

out.

 

February 24, 2016

Grief

I suppose

all I can do

is feel it

when it comes,

and devote my life to loving

in a way he, too,

deserved to love.

 

for all those we have loved and lost

February 3, 2016

on lunch break

how nice it is

to sit by the river and unwind,

blink by

blink.

 

you know your same-old view

in the city:

skyscraper tree tops

that leave you wanting for a chickadee

 

where can I find just one bird?

(the pigeons are beautiful, mind you.)

 

I yearn to hear a song;

the water gives it to me–

it gives it to us

as long as I keep my ears open

I can hear it all the way from the skyline.

 

remind me how love songs go, again?

does he start?

am I the minor chord?

 

the wind trickles in;

between my toes

the water hums.

 

my shoulders sigh

as I remember how easy it must have been

 

to let

doors open

before windows closed,

families eat meals together

after swimming through the day.

 

the world stills;

my eyes close;

and I tell my heart,

“It’s okay

to remain

open.”

January 21, 2016

Carry On

Tell me

what type of wind

would have made you stay,

tempted your shallow roots to grow

and adventures to remain

silent in the mind,

considering the heart instead–

talk about vulnerability

when all you see is mastery

even a mindful soul can grow lonely

what bit of sun-dipped skin

did you need to see,

prepared to acknowledge that freedom

is free to think about

but a lifetime of hurt to know

that “fate” is just a word,

“choice” a guarantee

unlike thawed flowers in spring

you’ve uprooted–

away from my heart, from possibility

and “we” becomes “me”

I continue the journey.

 

I learn to carry on.

 

January 2, 2016