#69

sometimes staying in bed or just disappearing
feels like a better option
than one more pull on the bootstrap 
or half-hearted acknowledgement
of just how silver the lining really is. 
we are tired.

it does not seem fair that while children are starving
simply because they are not our own
and people around us are ailing and dying
simply because its "part of being alive" -
that we should have to also put up 
with some hack job politic or crumby job
or even a hurt of our own.
we are really that tired.

i'm hoping it will be okay someday
for you to tell me how broken you are
and for me to just hold you
without trying to fix you
or telling you how fortunate you really are. 

and i am hoping that once we have all admitted
we are worn to the bone
by all this busy-ness of being alive
we can go back to feeding people
simply because they are hungry
and caring for people
simply because they are ill. 

i'm not sure there is much more to figure out than that.
maybe feeding and caring
would be enough to change the world.





 


					

#66 Grief

grief is a quiet color - 
gardenia who lost her scent -
a reckoning.

grief is without an hour -
has no second hand -
the face on a clock, gone.

there is only space
and a vacuous ledge to lean into.
my fear - not of falling
but that i will jump.

when i am a whirling dervish of doing
i can only be one way -
productive.
my heart sits on the sidelines
cheering us both on
but would never dare to interrupt.

i come here to be reminded of the color:
magenta
fuscia
aqua marine
blue
a light yellow blouse carrying bones.
flesh and heart held up in the mix.

i come here to celebrate
even though i do not recall the occasion
until I am here
and sometimes
not at all.

i sit.
i admit.
i pull away from the ledge
enough to breath
but not so far as to pretend
it isn't there.

my grief is a yellow tricycle -
empty basket -
under a timber of sun.

my grief is a magical final good-bye
i was not there to make -
with all the busyness
of being busy.
the doing of regret.

they say that is a stage of grieving -
as if recognizing its components
could allow for some dismantling -
but it is intact, i say.
as certain as a two minute timer.
this is how we are given a reprieve.
maybe even forgiveness.
the landmark for time.