REFLECTIONS AFTER ALBUQUERQUE

washing dishes

the sun reflects my round mirror pendant

lights my heartbeat on the wall

a little kitchen sun bouncing brightly

I cannot feel the beating of my heart

the wall does not feel it either

only reflects

until I turn away

MORNING SONG

all is still
the sky is moss gray outside my window
sliced only by barren winter branches
across the street

I am disheartened by a night of
tossing, fretting, somber dreams

the robin in the ponderosa pine
outside my window
chants his morning matins
loud and clear

calls with every feather
and hollow bone in his bird being
'it is time'

my spirit leaps out to him
tears spring behind my eyes
hope catches in my heart

I am ready now to begin this day

Amen

FLICKERINGS

BIG FIRES FLAMES

turned us on
got us going
made us feel alive

the best of us could juggle
four or five dazzling, flashing torches
even swallow fire

ooooooooooo aaaaaaaahhhhhhh
chanted the admiring crowds

we were swept up, carrid high
chaired around our blazing bonfires

now we catch reflections
of our fading fires

in The Darkening Hall of Aging
we are asked to slowly, thoughtfully
gather a myriad of flickering vigil lamps

tend them gently
rearrange them as needed

delight in each small flame:
a smile late afternoons rain
fresh bread the moon

as our older houses dim and quiet
we may gather our little hearth lights
to suit our selves just so

we are invited now
to create time and space
for gentler dances
to warm our halls

soul fires

DISCONNECTED

as an old arthritic woman
in a Minneapolis nursing home
nearly blind
imprisoned by your wheel chair
fearful of death
you would call me in Cincinnati
and end our halting conversation with
"I love you Barbie"

sometimes I could answer
"I love you too Mother"
I could hear myself as in a play
trapped, panicked, coerced again

sometimes I couldn't say the words
it was too late

you had grown
humble enough
scared enough
big enough
to say the words and maybe mean them
I had not

then you died
and I sat in your room
with the afghan I made covering you
and cried for what I couldn't say

A TALK I NEVER HAD WITH MY FATHER

why did you sign up?
I thought I was suppose to
why?
I thought I could help win the war

what was it like?
at first it was exciting
then?
then I thought I could help
then?
then I needed to be helped
then?
then I was beyond help

what was it like when you came back?
at first I thought I could come back
then what was it like?
then part of me knew I could never come back
and then?
I was lost forever

how did you know you were lost?
I couldn't pick up the pieces in my head
what happened then?
I drank myself to death in five years

A SAD SONG FOR ROBERTA

winter water songs slash

upon my paper
on the sidewalk
in grassy puddles

singing sad songs in a January garden

slip soddenly in the rose mold's petals,
a fungus as big as a cabbage,
encircled by a mourner's wreath
of still green summer leaves

an accolade to Death and Life

STONES

I HAD SOME STONES

clear red, white lined agates
found while wading with the minnows
wondering
"what will I do with these when I grow up?"

I HAD SOME STONES

having toughened up the bottoms
of my summertime feet
deciding
"I'll throw away my goodie-two-shoe shoes"

I HAD SOME STONES

pebbles lost in the carpet
by stone gathering kids,
along with dreams of
"I'll be a patient, calm and perfect mother"

I HAD SOME STONES

inside of me
secret, agate-red stones
dredges of the pain kept inside
until calcified

EMBEDDED

I'd walk for hours along the beach
to find just the stone

and I'd wonder why

then I went to Ireland

drove past the ruins of small stone houses
I knew my foremothers had lived in them
had cooked potatoes, fish and soda bread
warmed themselves by the peat fire
( I remembred the sweet, pungent smell )

lifted the stones one by one
to make stone fences to keep in
the cow and sheep

felt stones beneath their feet
as they climbed down to the sea for kelp

had gone to sleep to the surf
and wakened to the call of gulls

had conceived, birthed and died
within those stones
and chiseled stone crosses
for the loved ones' graves

I do not know their names nor their faces
but I know them
for they are embedded in me

FAREWELL

(with apologies to John Dunne )

this is my play's last scene

my journey's last mile
my race, idly, yet quickly run
my span's last inch
my minute's last point

gluttonous death will instantly
disjoint my body and my soul

I shall sleep a space

but my ever walking part
shall see the face
who already shakes my every joint

as my soul takes flight
my earthborn body in the earth
shall dwell

farewell

WHEN DEATH COMES

(with apologies to Mary Oliver )


when death comes and takes all her bright coins
from her purse to buy me, and snaps her purse shut

I want to look upon ALL as scales of a fire breathing
dragon, and see each scale as precious

when it's all over I want to say that
I learned to be amazed
I learned to take the dragon in my arms

when it's all over I don't want to
wonder if it was all worth it
find myself frightened or full of anger

I want to end up saying
it was a great place to visit
but I wouldn't want to live there forever