poetry
When the days press in on one another
And our lives have grown long
When the sunset calls us home
We will go together
When the years settle on our shoulders
And our steps have grown slow
When the night calls us just so
We will go together
When our stories have all been heard
And the world has spun away
When the fog covers our footsteps
We will go together
(Music: Take This Heart of Gold, by Watchhouse)
Nothing is perfect
and in the cracks and crevices
there exists
a different kind of beauty.
In the spaces between
we find we have room to grow.
In our missteps
and our backtracking
we get to see the landscape
a second time through.
We get to choose again,
to try it differently.
And if not try again,
instead we learn
how to better find our path.
My rage is quiet
It is tired, and overwhelmed
But it is there, always
With a headline, an anecdote,
It rises up against my heart
Threatens to sweep me away
At once fathomless and focused
But always quiet
When did I learn this silence?
How did the girl
Who could never stay quiet
Become the woman
Who never made waves?
Riding instead on the quiet tide
Allowing herself to be dashed
On rocks sharp with fear and expectation
How did she become the quiet body
Of another’s possession
Whose history was no longer hers to write
Or correct
My rage is quiet
It is tired, and overwhelmed
But it is there,
Always.
i thought i knew
the shape of my reflection was defined
i had curves and angles, my borders well worn
reinforced by the time and tides of my life
there was the tallest peak, here the lowest valley
that field was where the ghosts walked
and this mountain side grew the choicest flowers
i wandered as i pleased, content
and on occasion pushed out the borders
but mostly, wandered
i believed i knew, believed i had the truth of it all
never once seeing the shadows that trailed behind
grasping at my ankles, directing my feet
hiding a truth i was unprepared for,
guiding me past the caves where old fears lurked
fears i’d thought long since evicted from my landscape
there they waited, fed by the shadows at my feet
whispering to me as i slept
ensuring i was kept in check, kept inside my borders
you came, at first, as a single ray of light
faint, but clear
breaking through a shroud i hadn’t known was there
i hungered for that light, and it seemed there would never be enough
yet i couldn’t bring myself to give it up
the more i got, the more i craved
and the light grew
day over day, i watched as my field of ghosts transformed
becoming pieces of myself i’d believed long dead
day over day, i wandered less at the direction of the shadows
and more at the direction of my whims
i explored the landscape over and over again
discovering new topography
here a valley had formed, there a river disappearing in the distance
that tree had become a forest, and this mountainside a range
borders disappeared
and yet those caves remained, mostly intact
sometimes i could see the shadows
stretching out from within, reaching towards my feet
sometimes they managed to catch me
but it became harder with each passing day
little lamb
what light you bring
reaching up and up
eyes bright with the world
bright with knowing
and not knowing
in your laugh,
all my joy contained
(date unknown, likely around 2009-2010)
slow train brought me down
round the hill and home again
to the place i left behind
all those lonesome years ago
so much change around me
barely found where i had been
deep down in memory
all those days gone by
found you waiting for me
a sadness heavy on my heart
as dark earth wrapped around you
all those farewells past
so much time, gone and done
with pieces of my love left lying
unspent in all our youth
all those words unspoken
slow train brought me down
round the hill and home again
to love, dead and still
all those lonesome years ago
Fashion for me a stick so strong
That I may travel the world;
Make it of oak and maple branch,
And then you may have my hand, my hand.
Forge for me a dagger of steel
That I may hunt for my food;
Make it as keen as the winter wind,
And then you may have my hand, my hand.
Carve for me a delicate cup
That I may drink of the dew;
Make it as plain as the leaf of a tree,
And then you may have my hand, my hand.
Build for me a velvet lined box
That I may carry your heart;
Give me your love, your life, your heart,
And then you may have my hand, my hand,
And then you may have my hand.
(Date unknown, likely around 2001.)
we slept in a double bed upstairs and to the right
the room was blue
i can still hear the faint whispers of two children long grown
i used to steal the covers
we used to climb the dogwoods in the front yard
there were two of them
one for me and one for her
but she still took mine
in the summer we would hang the swing in the backyard
she pushed me too high
sometimes we played golf or table hockey in the basement
sometimes with our uncle's old army men and tanks
she always won
we often fought over my mother's old dolls
she always got the prettier one
we took turns riding in the front seat on the way home
mom would decide who sat where first
now we see each other once a year
talk on the phone maybe once a month
but we still share the bed
climb the trees
hang the swing
play army
and argue over the front seat
(Likely written around 1993)