Posts Tagged ‘courage’

Grief is
an uphill climb in sand
with no oasis in sight

Hot wind erases footprints
as if you came from nowhere.
No path to show the way.

This journey is taken alone.

Unable to find your bearings;
Maps become senseless
when blinded by harsh light.

Stumble through a world
where nothing ever changes and
everything looks the same.

Perhaps it is the same and
you’ve been walking in circles
like a dog chasing its tail.

There is no past –
not anymore.
Memories are unwelcome.
They make people nervous.

Death is so uncivilized
especially suicide.

My sister says she misses you.
I wish I could agree.

I don’t miss you.
I hardly knew you –
at least any “you” I liked or respected.

To me, you were The Bogeyman;
origin of my self-loathing.
I’m relieved that you are gone,
happy that you’re dead.

Not because
I hate you, though, and
I thank God for that.

All those nights, alone with you –
You could have been my victim too,
a bitter role-reversal.
But I made a different choice.

I rubbed your back, held your hand,
changed your bedding, clothes and diapers.
I loved you when you were helpless,
because you couldn’t love me when I was.

When you died,
I was happy that you’d escaped the pain,
free from that worn-out body.

I too, was freed:
released from a lifetime
of hate and fear;
your whipping post, no longer.

We went our separate ways,
finally at peace.
Who could ask for more?

Then why do I feel so envious
that my sister had something to miss?

Creature born,
fully grown;
not like a foal
on shaky legs:

invincible warrior,
claws honed
for tearing
truth
from the flesh
of unreason.

Innocent
need not fear
this spawn,
which grew,
undetected,
for years;

crawled at night
from my belly:

a force intent
on saving me.

From myself
when necessary.

It germinated
in the lush jungle
of secrets;

grew stronger
every day
until
it pulled itself
from me,
fully-formed.

Stroked
my face
with claws
like obsidian blades,

whispered
“We are one
in purpose.
I will be
your savior.”

And I believed.

I spend my time
trying
to fade
into nothing,
like stars do
at dawn.

Feel the edge
I’m dropping over.
Wonder if I care.

If I’ll miss anything
when I’m no longer here.

The brush of a hand
in passing,
warm breath
on my cheek.

Indistinct burr
of voices
through the wall
I press myself
against.
Rough stone
pushes back.

I listen,
hardly breathing,
but can’t make out
the words.

TKO

Posted: April 17, 2011 in My Poetry
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Caught mid-punch,
as fist met face.

like an alabaster
carving.

Every muscle,
pronounced:
textbook
illustration.

Months of work,
pay off.

See the first buds
on wet branches.
Hear the harsh
caw of crows.

My heart
beats strongly
as a fist on the door.

Liver, lungs
and kidneys
do their work,
unnoticed.

Silent celebration
of health,
of life.

Glad to be a part
of this greening world.

Grateful
for those saviors
who return
the gift
of life
when their use
for it is done.

Somewhere
my nephew’s heart valve
still opens and shuts.

Somewhere
his corneas
share Ty’s love
of beauty.

While one family
mourns,
other families
rejoice.

Death
can become
life.

What if
I dared
to start life
again;

be the person
I was meant
to become?

Cast aside
all fear
and doubt –
Set about
rebuilding
with faith

instead of clinging
to the familiar,
like the last tree
in a hurricane.

I’d start
with the basics:
trust and love
because, right now,
they’re reserved
for one person.

I’d learn to dream,
to hope,
to give
without terror;
not expecting
failure.

To even say it
sounds impossible.
But I have
good teachers.

25 years ago,
my sister gave birth
through her skin;
her 3rd cesarean.

I captured the moment
with a failed flash;
emerging head illuminated
by surgical lights
otherworldly glow –
The door to Heaven,
briefly opened.

I held him first, cradled
his small, still bloody body
mere seconds before
reluctantly releasing him
to his father.

We walked to the nursery
together while they sutured
the gaping wound
through which he arrived.

Last year, I repeated the act of
returning him to his Father.

More painful this time,
because I know
he won’t be coming back.

I am practicing heartache,
learning to let go gracefully,
without tears or whimpers.

Each time I let go,
I am learning the way
to loosen my grip on what
was never really mine.

To say,
not goodbye,
but later.

The things I have
I hold closer.
They too
will leave me someday.

I am learning
how to hold on.

I am learning
how to let go.

4-1-11

Defining Life

Posted: January 3, 2011 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Life
is the head of a chicken
with a glowering yellow eye.

Life
is a full set of dentures
and a slice of humble pie.

Life
is a hollow promise,
an empty-handed threat.

Life
you can take it or leave it,
but I haven’t left it yet.

Fallen Star

Posted: December 25, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , ,

One star
vaults
over mountains –
lands
face up
on the lawn.

Burns frost
from grass
in widening circles;
pebble
in a pond.

Steam rises;
makes it hard
to see
despite
that hard, white light.

Approach
The Fallen slowly:
a piece of
Heaven’s heart –

where it fell,
still shining.

Fear
doesn’t know
its name.