Day 449: Simple Sweet
∴
the sweetest thing
i’ve ever done
was to hold your hand
like that.
∴
Day 432: To Make A Lemon Cake
∴
to make a lemon cake
when the world feels rather sour
declares sweetness’ authority
and reckons hearts with tarted flour.
∴
Day 408: A Week Without Words (1)
i’m leaving for a week,
to a music school,
to absorb more than i express,
where what comes out of me
may only be songs
that you cannot hear,
or pictures
that i do not take,
or odd flashes
of thought,
image,
sound,
memory,
that come to me
in this strange
and strangely comfortable
place.
i am turning the editor off.
i am silencing the censor.
i am simple
and sad
and accepting of that.
i have not always been sad
though i have always been
simpler than most think,
and so i will keep inevitability
instead of hope,
as what i once was,
i will be again,
in time.
but tonight,
i shall wait with music.
Day 230: Smallest of Gifts
∴
here are the smallest of gifts
but they’re all that i have:
for the shoulders that curve
forward and weighted
i’d give breath on the neck
to brush gravity back.
for the feet that throb
from too many miles made
i’d lend you my back to lean down on.
for the eyes that are milky
from the haze of bright lights
and little horrors,
close them, my friend,
i’ll keep watch tonight.
to your shuddering figure
i’d give tender caress;
though ice may stop a swell
it’s warmth that soothes the soul.
and you,
would you do the same for me?
on nights when
there is no stopping
the tears as they spill,
the fears as they storm,
and the sorrows felt deeper than rock,
·
would you offer
the greatest of consolations
found in the smallest of gifts?
∴
Day 177: Books For Kids
Sometimes, you just want to shake things up.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my traditional love stories and those classic fairy tales. I go back home with Austen, I adventure with Kipling, and thrive on the genuine simple goodness of Alcott and Wilder. But every once in a while I step into the current century; and I’d like to bring my kids along for the ride.
Given my current mulling of mind (and reflecting on the #metoo campaign), I decided to change up the “Children’s Lit” section in my house.
For my daughter, a little inspirational bedtime reading:
And for my sons, a little perspective:
The cool thing is, they’ve all read each one cover to cover, and are starting over again.
Books. I love ‘em.
Worlds are changed at the turning of a page.
Goodnight Stories for Rebel Girls, is by Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo
Strong is the New Pretty, is by Kate T. Parker
Day 161: A Song I Taught
that was a song I taught them-
the children-
a long time ago…
i hear them sing it, all around
but it sounds like radio waves
lost in a cave
it’s a distance away that i cannot fathom
and the words escape me now.
it is only the melody i recognize
and take a melancholy comfort in
glad that i taught it
sad that i can sing it no more.
Day 158: Let’s Go
let’s go be children
in a tent somewhere
it need not be fancy
i’ll decorate it nicely
let’s find sticks on the ground
and make them our wands
and we’ll burn their tips
and write with the charcoal
on scraps of wood
or large, flat rocks
or anything
that will take what we draw
let’s go keep secrets,
like where the ramps rise in spring
and how to braid grasses in summer
let’s leave little treasures
like hummingbird homes
and constructed stone towers
in the clearings of trees.
let’s go find sunsets
and leave them where they lie
and watch the moon rising
together
see, i don’t need the things
i go out to find each day
i want to be cloistered and kept safe away
with a friend and a lover
and a sharer of food
let’s make adventures of music
and story
and art
and we can make forts
to sleep in
let’s go hide
in this great, big world
and never get lost again.
Day 143: Surfing
I’ve only been surfing twice in my life.
Both times I was reminded
that I’m not a great surfer.
Still,
if I had the chance,
I’d do it again
in a heartbeat.
You paddle this long, thin ship –
only big enough for one –
out into the sea
and wait.
You wait for waves –
they come in sets of three,
you wait for otters
as they pop their curious noses,
you wait for sunrise to finish,
because who can look at the shore
when the sky dances
just for you?
You wait for bravery
because once you stand
you’ll find out how good your balance is –
or is not –
and you might just fall.
and you might fall hard.
And when the set rolls in –
three little swells
like glassy serpent backs –
you muster air in your lungs,
courage in your heart,
and strength in your arms,
and you paddle –
ferociously chosen –
this is the wave you will take –
this is the wave that will take you.
pull, ache, burn, and hope
clutch the edge and stand
plant your feet and flex your toes
bend the knee and ride
responsive to the journey
molecules moving over
undulating tide
If you’re lucky, the wave takes you gently to the beach
and you stride off your board
like a man from an escalator
who checks his watch
and waits for the next tram.
But most times
I never quite make it
to the shore.
and when that happens,
you spin in salt and sand
for a time –
sometimes it seems like a long time –
disoriented and strange.
the force of a wave is not something to fight against.
you must yield to it else you waste your strength.
it eventually forgets you
and heads back out to sea
and you must have something left in you
to find the surface again.
In those seconds underwater,
you’re pushed.
you’re pulled.
you’re lifted and drowned.
you’re helpless and weightless and unseen and free
and slowly,
slowly,
the spin stops
and you must wait
to feel your float
and find the surface once again.
I’ve only been surfing twice in my life.
Both times I was reminded
that I’m not a great surfer.
Still,
if I had the chance,
I’d do it again
in a heartbeat.
Day 142: Erode
·
O cradle
O cure
O hold that endures
·
O keeper of my wishes
and maker of my dreams
O filler of the waters
and current of the streams
·
O embrace in curve and sphere
I can feel you drawing near
my back against your breast
O limitless, loving rest
∴
lean into me
lean down
press onto me
come ‘round
·
I have called you all these many years
I erode your edge with salted tears
and sculpt anew with kisses
·
Day 140: Fire
·
draw me
moth to flame
hypnotized flight
·
call me
call me yours
and light my way
·
heat me
inside out
kindle within
·
build me
take my grain
and burn it down
·
spark lit
firefly
i glow by you
·
cold is not your color
though you may feign a breeze
there is no ash in me
∴
