The day swallowed; in
the sun too long,
burning, I would run,
always behind a
shadow, a butterfly
I think, following
one created small, too –
carried with the wind
when it gusts, wings
assumed by outline
of one who flies.
Either way, the reminder of
fragility, to be made barely,
front a too bright light, colorless
and I know looking back pointless;
she follows whether I look or
do not see, so I found
a place with the trees
once – how I felt held
light as a paper; they reminded
of my father, catching
where made empty by an arm
with too needy of so much
and I un-did a bit,
unfolded at the feet
of every giant – a
once girl, become
heavy with rain
marking outline of roots
upon a blank page kept
in the back pocket,
to be impressed upon
like a map presses,
a way to the third self,
as infinite as the tree
I chose as mother, who
is here always by choice,
my own at least – without
taking of it, only the way
I feel be-side, leaning
upon, just a bit
into a way that would
choose life despite,
feeling like work
has been done/
I can fold along old creases
I felt once my weakness
as if how we begin is
the cause of pain,
and twice a child,
once pressed quiet as
a blanket ironed flat
is made agreeable,
draped upon, to fill gaps
and shaded places
of the one who
made her –
the first rendering,
draping upon every
coldness in the self
like a tree feasts on the
own, fallen leaves.
Tag: human-nature
Credo.
I believe in the soft, distracted smile
turning my way and the girl who
draws vines on her white Keds
in permanent marker.
I believe in stately trees and turning
pages beneath their boughs
with searching hands.
The adept hand signing, “hello”
when there are no words to be heard
or knitting colorful yarns on
telephone poles. I believe
in gardenias that bloom between
the alley and the sun, the sounds
of Cohen from someone’s kitchen.
I believe god
is held in the mouths
of philosophers and children:
that beliefs are dangerous without
love and art is an act of goodwill.
I believe in ethics and the
responsibility of leadership but even more
in the resiliency of the human spirit
like a ghostly pounding heart
as we sleep.
I believe in the spaces between:
in pauses and think-backs and could be’s,
especially in “perhaps” and
I believe in the dog’s paw
that smells like sugar cookies
now that we are family.
I believe we should be careful
of words like, “inconvenience.”
I believe in the storytellers and song-
makers and especially in grandmothers
watching mothers turn the page.
I believe in simplicity of
needs: the hand that must be
held and the mouth that
must be fed. And, the
needs that go untended,
the boy clutching his teddy
as he dreams.
I believe in the untenable
breadth of the universe
and the starlit dust
inbetween it all. I believe
‘god’ is in the trees
and the wave tumbling
towards the shore and
the eyes of strangers.
skipping stones 