Pink primrose
cascade down the edge
of the rock garden in early spring
a choir of sweet grace
playing peek-a-boo
at dawn or dusk.
A welcome sign in floral language
easily read and inhaled
as it delicately nods
to the early sun.
Rays shine through thin petals
capped like angel wings,
glistening like abalone shells,
soft as mulberry silk
spreading delicious citrus scent
as the stars congregate in the sky.
what did all this contemplation and meditation look like
back in the day
when war was on unions ruled patriotism felt right cars were more often feet children played in the street
don’t you think agreed it was innate
not this thing we had to stop
and do
to make ourself
whole
I continue to profess
not because I believe but because it just makes sense
God is in the doing
I find myself
more talkative
these days,
less listener
and more
lister, my
words a
languid
letting go,
spilling like
rainwater,
composing
a line before
the previous
one has
finished,
images coming
and going
in fleeting
motions;
poetry is
a language
I must relearn
since the words no
longer stay close
to my chest.
But when
I am quiet
I notice
certain
things:
the silence
of our home
at night,
the stillness
of breathe
between us,
the cat
scratches
between walls
and out of tune
Elvis sang through
shaky breath
as a tactic
to calm the nerves,
because the fear
never leaves,
no matter
how hard I try
to outrun it
or stare it
in the eye,
finding a
frighting
comfort
in the
familiar.
Every person I must lose
comes back to me
eventually.
Their faces may change,
but the rest is still
the same.
My Hands Fall Open
It surfaces like memory—
the kind that arrives
with its hands full.
I see now
how long I’ve been carrying
the things that never belonged to me—
the hairline fractures, the trembling edge
of someone else’s breaking.
When I look inward,
I find a crack of my own—
opening not in fear
but in recognition.
And I wonder
what it would mean
to set one shattered thing down,
to let my hands fall open
and feel the weight leave me?
You must have heard the saying, “If you love them, let them go.” So, that’s why—
Tears in your voice you did, and I flew—but still feel that love within me.
