On This Anniversary of Loss

When I inhale, I feel a deep warm spot that aches with want for you

Come, let me hold you in my heart

Come fill this space of wanting

I miss you

I do know the truth–

Your body is a small bag of off white sand,

But once I felt you move like ocean waves inside me

Come back,

Be whole,

Brave, strong boy, your mother loves you

There are no words to mend what happened

I know your pain was immense

All that you deserved was your mother’s care, your mother’s kiss, your mother’s breast

Angels, let him feel me now, and Nirvan, if you can, come back

Come into that warm spot in my chest

Come snuggle down tight into my heart

With each breath, I am waiting.


It is impossible to find

The origin of my tether

It binds my arms

In its deep layer of wiry hemp

But still I look–

As the braiding just pulls harder

Until my arms push strong into my sides.


No longer able to take a deep breath

My mind is light

And so I forget to look for blame

Instead, I instinctively bite

I cut right through

Stinging splinters pierce my tongue

As my hands rise toward the sky.


Homemade Minestrone Soup

She stood at the counter chopping carrots,

Onions, pancetta and kale,

But what was on her mind

Was her wish to be kissed.

Boiling salt broth,

Her lips were warm and humming,

Her cheeks flushed held over the stove.

She gently lay the spoon in its cradle

Just to reach behind her head,

Raising her long dark stands,

Then letting them go to graze back into place–

Oh, the feel grace feathers brushing her neck!

The First Poem After a Long Dry Spell

       Aside from the beautiful reason I stopped writing poetry, there are a few, harder to call beautiful, reasons that I stopped doing something that brings me so much joy.  Over time, do many of us chose to sacrifice important parts of ourselves that for one reason or another we no longer deem essential or even appropriate? 

       Have you wondered what a poem written after 20 years of not writing might look like?  Writing that first poem after my long dry spell was cathartic but also inspiring for me.  Writing that poem would become the start to my chosing to do things differently in order to fully return to myself.  By returning to writing and sharing my poetry, I am returning to feeling fully at ease, comfortable in my own skin, and happy.  I am so thankful for all of my friends who rest so comfortably in their own skins and are such great role models for me of self acceptance.  I thank the woman who with all of her unashamed, gorgeous, human beauty inspired me to write my first poem and begin to come back to myself.  I thank all of my friends who love me for who I am and remind me when I forget, about the beauty that resides in each and every one of us just the way we are:

Lit Up

I watch her rise out of the glistening butter gold of the life that is shimmering around her

She no longer seems,

She Is

And there is nothing more beautiful than a woman who is

Lit up from within

Her heart is at home in her body

The lines around her eyes crinkle and wrinkle–

A perfect setting for those mischievous, gleaming gems

Her laugh rings with the joy of a mother who has playful stories to tell

And she just glows as she says her silent thankful prayers while she cooks her family dinner,

And tucks her children in at night

Then alone,

Bathing in the warmth of her own kitchen,

She slowly chants God’s name with a tear sparkling on her face.

There is nothing more beautiful than a woman who is

Lit up from within

She is confident

She is home

She is the beauty of all poetry

She is

lit up from within.

You Are a Flower

Dear One,

Please be aware

Touch always comes with intention

A drive to care or a mission to wound

The butterfly soft handshake may soon meld into a soulful hug

Just as the arrogant shove can become a punch in anger.

Dear One,

Please be aware

Touch is a personal thing

Look at the person who is touching you

Look deep into eyes and be sure of intention

You are a flower waiting to be kissed by the sun.

Keep Diving

Keep diving

Into your same deep place

And each time

You will see something different

Multicolored rock and coral

Will turn into multicolored rock and coral and a crustacean

Elaborately perched and blending

So that you could only find him

On your second or third or tenth attempt

Keep diving

Into your same deep place

And you will see intricate beauty

And get a glimpse

That everything is always more than we know at any one moment.

If We Are Not Very Careful–A Reason A Girl May Stop Writing Her Poetry

As soon as I let go of the thought, “I need to be perfect,”

I become gorgeous.

Well awkward in my humanness,

But just glowing in my authenticity!

I have a voice that automatically comes

Attached to a giggle when I open my mouth, be myself and smile.

I am going to assume that this is what they were trying to teach me so many years ago.

They weren’t telling me to look nice, smile and be perfect

They just wanted me to look nice, smile and be me.

But to a girl who is just discovering her humanness,

To a girl who loves the beauty in perfection,

That girl knows that she will never really stand up.

And soon all the acts involved in hiding humanness drain her precious energy.

She concentrates so hard on seeming perfect,

Monitoring her outsides and pushing down her insides

You can almost watch to see the day that she loses her voice–

She looks nice, opens her mouth, forgets herself and smiles.

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