Just Love Them

MOTHER’S DAY 2020

LOVING YOU BOTH WAS THE EASY PART.  THAT FEELING OF LOVE-

OH MY CHILDREN, SUCH AN EASY FEELING.

DID YOU KNOW THAT EVERY TIME I CHANGED A POOPIE DIAPER I KNEW I LOVED YOU.

DID YOU KNOW THAT EVERY TIME I RAN TO YOUR CRIB WITH NO SLEEP-

I LOVED YOU.

DID YOU KNOW THAT EVERY TIME I HELD YOU TO MY BREAST –

I LOVED YOU.

DID YOU KNOW THAT EVERY TIME I YELLED WHEN I SHOULD’T HAVE-

I LOVED YOU.

DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS STILL

TRYING TO FIGURE IT ALL OUT?

DID YOU KNOW WHEN I APOLOGIZED FOR MY SHORTCOMINGS-

I WAS SAYING, “I LOVE YOU.”

DID YOU KNOW THAT LOVING YOU WAS THE EASY PART?

DID YOU KNOW THAT I THOUGHT MY LOVE WOULD BE ENOUGH?

LOVE THEM. AND, I DID.  I DO.

AND THEN, I REMEMBERED THIS…

JUST LOVE THEM

THE DAY WE BROUGHT YOU 

HOME FROM THE HOSPITAL

I CRIED-

WHAT DO I DO WITH HER?

LOVE HER-

AND I DID.

I DO

FIVE YEARS LATER WE BROUGHT YOU

HOME TO MEET YOUR BIG SISTER.

I CRIED-

WHAT DO I DO WITH HIM?

WHAT DO I DO WITH THEM?

LOVE HIM-

LOVE THEM-

AND I DID.

I DO—

LOVE, MOM

A LITTLE EACH DAY

AUTHOR’S NOTE-

IT TAKES A LITTLE NURTURING EACH DAY TO THRIVE.

IT TAKES A LITTLE TEARING DOWN EACH DAY TO DIE.

WITH A LITTLE EACH DAY-A GARDEN CAN GO EITHER WAY.

 

I STOOD IN THE GARDEN
MY FEET BARE WITHIN THE SOIL.
YOU TORE OFF EACH PETAL OF MY SOUL-
A CARETAKER OR A SCROYLE.
MY CRIES TO ST. DYMPHNA
SHE UNDERSTOOD MY PAIN.
A SPIRIT CANNOT THRIVE
WITH JUST THE SUN AND RAIN.
YOU CAN NURTURE.
YOU CAN FEED.
YOU MAKE THE GARDEN GROW.
YOU CAN DROWN THE ROOT-
YOU CAN HACK THE STEM.
NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.
THE WATER FELL. THE SKY WAS BRIGHT.
YOU RETURNED TO SEE YOUR WORK.
THERE I WAS-
LIFELESS-
STILL GROUNDED IN THE FERTILE EARTH.
CDS
FEBRUARY 2020

BUCKLES AND BOWS

(I don’t write many poems that rhyme unless they are funny little ditties. However, this has been in my head for two days and would not go away.)
IT STARTED WITH BUCKLES.
IT STARTED WITH BOWS.
IT STARTED WITH WORDS BEGINNING TO SOUND LIKE PROSE.
IN A ROOM WITH A DRESSER, A MIRROR, AND A FOUR POSTER BED
I RECITED THE PHRASES GATHERING IN MY HEAD.
IMAGINATION, EXPRESSION, AN AUDIENCE OF ONE,
I WAS THE WRITER, THE CRITIC, THE HEROINE. 
I DANCED WITH THE RAIN.
I DANCED WITH THE SUN. 
HOLDING THE SCRIPT IN MY HANDS SO SMALL
SELF-POSSESSED. STANDING TALL. 
CONTENT IN MY SPACE
WHERE MY DREAMS WERE MADE.
WITHOUT CHAGRIN I SEE MY FACE. 
THE IMAGE BEFORE ME
MY REFLECTION IN THE GLASS. 
WOULD LIFE BE KIND TO ME?
WOULD THIS BE THE STORY OF MY PAST? 

CLEARLY YOU

CLEARLY YOU
You have a front row seat.
To the madness.
You are a witness.
To the method.
You are not even aware.
The proscenium separates us.
You are always observing.
A critic of experiences.
Not even your own.
Life is our stage.
Tears, laughter, silence, audible rage.
The show is sold out.
We are still in this cage.