Windows (A collection of poems) part 2
_______________________________________________ 13
When the worlds between us spin
In circles round our lips
Enclosing us in atmospheres
That shudder round our hips
I lose my sense of space, instead
Entwined in threaded night
That holds my hand to yours
In shutters, gasps, and sightless sight
Render in me speechless
all the words that fall like prey
To the folding time between us
Mouth to mouth knit night to day.
_______________________________________ 14
What would happen if a woman spoke
The truths that have been bound to her
For centuries
What if the tight-lipped sigh
Became the howl of midnight
Shaking the ground with memory
And rage
What if all the futility of the love
She lavished under the directives of
I need, and
A woman’s heart, and
A wife’s duty
Suddenly could have a voice
Be understood
I long for a day when all the words that
Lay unspoken in
A woman’s eyes
Can be communicated in more ways than
A long look
A hand held
Or the unbearable dignity of silence
____________________________________ 15
Intention holds infinite worlds
Places where I was right and you were wrong
Places where you never hurt me
Places where we were good to each other
It is a pointed unbearable light
Bouncing off our reality like
I am the cat
and all it ever meant
Was to toy with me
I chase it, tripping endlessly
Over the lump in my throat
Over the suitcases you packed
Over the shame that has stuck
My feet to the ground in
Stutters
How I wish it were good enough to wish
To let my intentions cover
My actions like a lotion to
Longing, aching skin
I want to see us for real
Stripped of the worlds we created
Through “I just wanted to….”
But in this crazy hall of mirrors
I don’t know what is real
Anymore.
I just see the infinite scars
Of our universe
_____________________________________________ 16
She is spinning on the dancefloor like a top
And I can’t stop looking at her
She reminds me of one of those fireworks
I used to watch on the 4th of July
A little piece of magic that I ignited
Dazzling, a blur against the darkened night
I am thrilled and afraid at the same time
It moves unpredictably, you see
A magic I’ve started but can’t control
She is like that
I realize
Full of a magic
I ignited with a smile
But suddenly
My heart is
Unknown to me, a whirl and pop of color
I cannot know or bring under
Any control
Her hair is whipping around her face
And I feel tempest
And heat
And the raw ache of childhood
Then I turn to you and smile
And agree
To head home.
____________________________________________ 17
When I say “be kind”
What I mean is “maybe you don’t know everything”
Like the fact that he hasn’t seen his family in years
Like the fact that his own father tried to kill him
Like the fact that he has never known a home
And you’re sitting there
Nudging your friends
Laughing at the way he says his name
Mocking his shoes, his walk, his haircut
Acting as if he is nothing but an insect in the room
A punchline to a joke
I know you don’t understand the weight of what you’re doing -
But accidental cruelty is still cruelty
Be kind — but I am filled with rage
If I had the power, I would throw a shield around him
If only to protect him from one more person who treats his existence as nothing more then the wadded paper they kick down the hall
How dare you
When I say “listen”
What I really mean is maybe there is value outside our own imaginations
That maybe the discipline of silencing our desires might lead to
Actual fulfillment of our greatest wishes
That maybe listening to others speak might
Inspire you to find your voice
That maybe power and intellect are grown and nurtured in the soil of silence
When I say “listen”
What I really mean is make a choice
Because choice does not exist in a world that is ruled by the whims of your emotions
Choice is the result of a concentrated will
It is the direct offspring of intention and understanding
Life will only just happen to you
Until you take the time to still yourself and decide who you want to be
So — make a decision
When I say “I care”
What I mean is that I worry about your future
I think of my brother — who died addicted and disgraced
An absent father, a cheating husband
A man he never wanted to be
I think of my daughter — who didn’t understand the permanence of death
Who tried to drown her sorrows in pills
Who thought everyone would love her more when her existence no
Longer held any gravity
Who didn’t die — but wanted to
I think of my step-son
Who still carries the wounds of his father’s addiction in the
Soles of his shoes
Who is drowning in a sea of alcohol and self- destruction so big
I feel invisible on the shoreline
When I say “I care”
What I mean is I want to help
I wish I could make you feel valuable
I wish you expected more for yourselves
I wish I could save — someone. Anyone.
I care.
You say — “we are just 8th graders”
We’re just having fun
Just roasting
Just playing
Why so serious?
Because
In this moment
You are here
This is real
And you have the
Miraculous opportunity
To decide
Who
You
Want
To
Be.
If that is not serious — then there is no sun, or moon, or stars to light the sky
If that is not serious — then why are we here?
______________________________________ 18
When I was born
My mother wrapped me in a hope
So tight
It was as if she saw
The whole night sky in my eyes
That kind of fierce love is a wall.
Its stones a hard mix
of miracles and disappointments,
each packed tight as
my small clenched fists.
Even now, after everything,
I feel the remains
like tiny graveyards in my skin
and I’m not sure how to mourn them –
or even if I should.
__________________________________________ 19
I never really believed in souls
Until I saw the light
Leave your eyes
It was the strangest thing
They changed color
Lost their gold
And I knew
You were gone
It was just the rote memory
That remained
Lifeless
Mechanical
Cancer had enveloped you
And standing on the
Shoreline
I watched you drown
Slowly
For all I did to care for you
I couldn’t save you
I could barely even reach you
With all the galaxies of pain and coping
Between us
The last glint of gold in your eyes
spoke in a hard look
I love you, you know
It was part whisper, part prayer
Urgent, desperate, longing
I wonder where you went
I wonder if the soul dies before the body
It must be so
Was there any “you” left to bear witness to your departure from this life?
I hope not
I would be so ashamed
All my courage left
With the light in your eyes
__________________________________________ 20
I must confess.
I have seen grandma in the strangest of places.
The other day, maybe three or four days ago,
I was getting ready for school.
Hunched over, I was attempting to dry my hair,
when I saw Grandma peeking out at me through my feet.
I know it sounds bizarre, but there she was just the same.
My left foot, you see, was holding the majority of my weight,
while the other was slightly cocked out to the right.
It was a mirror reflection of Alice in her white nightgown and blue sweater,
Alice with her hands on her hips,
Alice with mischief behind laughing eyes,
slightly swaying, but smiling at me through the curve of my toes.
And really, I think, it is just like her to pop up in my memory in such an obscure way. Clever. Fun.
I have seen her laughing at me through my feet
on several occasions since.
Just wait until you’re 90, she says.
See if they yell at you for attempting to climb a latter.
Do it anyway, she prods.
And I think I will.
I feel a certain honor — staring at my feet and seeing hers.
As if I could maybe weather life with the strength she did,
maybe with the same humor and independence.
This small part of her leaves me with a courage and defiance
that is unique to her spirit, and I feel the wink behind the gift
as I accept it with a smile.
I remember once dancing with her in her kitchen.
The big band music was playing
and in her expression
there was such nostalgic longing,
that I knew she was with grandpa.
Elbows deep in sudsy water, swaying at the kitchen sink,
she was on a dance floor of her memories making, happy — truly happy.
I was so overtaken with that moment, that look,
that I turned her towards me and wrapped my arms around her.
She lay her head on my shoulder and with her hand in mine,
we danced right there — together in her memory,
for she had the grace to share it with me.
We almost fell over, and laughed through our tears.
Then the moment was lost.
But as all truly great moments, it found a place to lodge
among the contents of my heart.
And in moments of loneliness,
I draw upon it for strength.
That’s the power of love -
those moments in life that are saturated by it
provide strength forever it seems.
How does one turn the final page in another’s life?
I think it is impossible for the living.
Grandma in her love, her humor, and her bright-eyed intelligence
lives on despite the closing of any book.
For stories are retold, and re-lived.
And, I suspect, she will continue to smile at me
through the pages of my own story -
popping up in random, unexpected ways.
I am glad of it.
For it wouldn’t be much of a story
without her bright blue ribbon wound through it.
Goodbye Alice, my sweet, dear Grandma.
And Thank-you.
I suspect we will meet again soon -
perhaps through my hand resting just so on my hip.