Friday, May 18, 2012
Un Forget a Bull
i couldn't have known the thrill of flight
without having to fight.
never losing sight
of you on the horizon.
as i grow into a wise one
second life just begun
i seek you out. like sun.
feel like i've won.
a lottery. your gift to me.
color full history. ancestral mystery
painted on skin. you end, i begin.
once more, i win.
with each moment of joy
carried on a hummingbird's wing
the song i sing
has a familiar refrain;
i'll remain. i'll remain.
Monday, April 20, 2009
dancing bones
she might tell you otherwise
but, her hobby
is collecting broken people.
i've watched her
take a man
with severed family ties
and stitch him seamlessly
back into the folds
and creases of his obligations.
observed her patiently working the puzzle
of someones fractured spirit
beginning with the edges
until all pieces interlock
and there are no empty spaces.
she takes what has been discarded, forgotten
or shamed
and becomes their mirror
so when they look at her
all they see is love
reflecting.
but, her hobby
is collecting broken people.
i've watched her
take a man
with severed family ties
and stitch him seamlessly
back into the folds
and creases of his obligations.
observed her patiently working the puzzle
of someones fractured spirit
beginning with the edges
until all pieces interlock
and there are no empty spaces.
she takes what has been discarded, forgotten
or shamed
and becomes their mirror
so when they look at her
all they see is love
reflecting.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
memory
when i was six years old
we had plans to go to the ice capades
with the neighbor up the street and her three daughters.
for weeks i skated through the house in my socks,
sliding across the kitchen floor,
arms arced, face upturned toward imaginary glory.
shortly before the event, our friend's grandmother
fell ill, and was hospitalized.
instead of, "only nine more days until the ice capades"
the familiar refrain was, "we'll see, dana. we'll see."
i kept anxious watch on her progress,
pestering my mother daily for "the good news".
it didn't come.
in typical taurean fashion,
i snorted and stomped and raged
"i wish she would hurry up and die, then."
as soon as i let the words loose, i felt my heart
start to crumble.
i even shocked myself with my selfishness.
i am still ashamed.
when i was six years old
we had plans to go to the ice capades
with the neighbor up the street and her three daughters.
for weeks i skated through the house in my socks,
sliding across the kitchen floor,
arms arced, face upturned toward imaginary glory.
shortly before the event, our friend's grandmother
fell ill, and was hospitalized.
instead of, "only nine more days until the ice capades"
the familiar refrain was, "we'll see, dana. we'll see."
i kept anxious watch on her progress,
pestering my mother daily for "the good news".
it didn't come.
in typical taurean fashion,
i snorted and stomped and raged
"i wish she would hurry up and die, then."
as soon as i let the words loose, i felt my heart
start to crumble.
i even shocked myself with my selfishness.
i am still ashamed.
Monday, April 13, 2009
safe passage
on this friday,
nothing
was ever the same.
it almost was something
then, wasn't.
nothing. anymore. for always.
nothing
was ever the same.
it almost was something
then, wasn't.
nothing. anymore. for always.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
next to godliness
so we decided to skip church
one sunday, my high school sweetheart and i,
and drink coffee and eat sweet rolls with butter
at the dog pound, instead.
i never went to mass with him, again.
one sunday, my high school sweetheart and i,
and drink coffee and eat sweet rolls with butter
at the dog pound, instead.
i never went to mass with him, again.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
day~ly routine
practical methodical
i see myself, this way
early to bed early to rise
dawn the grace of each new day
the rooster crows
in first slivers of light
six cats emerge
from cloak of night
start the coffee
feed the pride
throw wide the door
and step outside
inhale deeply
give thanks and praise
blessed is she
of simple ways.
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