ICU

I see you
You show me pictures of how you used to be
And I don’t care
I don’t care that you’ve changed because I’m here with you now
And still, I love you
I, too, look back and long for the me
Before the damage
I understand.
But I can’t stay there
And neither should you

I look at pictures
to remind me how good I’ve had it
And how I can make new ones to joyfully reflect on
As the arbiter of my life
I have sought and carried out
disseminating seeds of joy
For future me,
Who should love memory
Without bitterness

Do we not know that things wear and break?
And someday everything will have once been better?
When you lose control of what is happening to you
Gain it in another area
The person you were is still buried below your altered surface
And you don’t need a picture
to show me who you were
I see you

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Published in: on January 25, 2019 at 2:15 am  Leave a Comment  
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Our Lives are Unfolding

Our lives are unfolding
Like origami

Creases are undone
We are returning to
Simple paper
With marks that show
We were once beautiful cranes,
Fancy napkins,
Cootie catcher fortune tellers.

In the end, we are all the same.
Squares of paper, blank slates
Mere cloth on laps
Open maps

After one bad bend, turn and smooth
There is a groove that beckons all future moves
Actions that make wrinkles,
Our mistakes, lines in our palms
Spelling longevity or brevity.

Our lives are unfolding
Like picnic quilts

Snapped open
And drifted to ground like fall leaf parachutes
We find a simpler time
To be alive
gleaming and gnawing
On rinds and bones
In an open space far from home

In the end, we are all the same.
Patchwork patterns
Loose stitches
Laced by ancestry,
A beautiful barrier from feeling the earth
And a tool for getting fresh air

Our lives are unfolding
Like old love letters found in hope chests,
A careful dumping of heart-wrought ink
That eventually fills us with longing or grief
Such simple paper
That echoes in the halls of memory

In the end, it is all the same
We fold back up,
envelope ourselves in long cedar boxes,
Mere parchment etched with
Sequestered confessions
Our crow’s feet biographies and laugh lines
Denied light or wistful gaze
Forever tucked away.

Published in: on January 17, 2013 at 10:09 pm  Comments (3)  
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Locomotives

Absence makes the heart grow fonder”
“Out of Sight out of mind
It’s hard to leave the past behind
 
And so the heart lingers in the past
on a hitch pulled by the hurried brain
It’s a reluctant train 
howling through the fog
of memory and destinations promised
 
And the premise is precarious
on the grinding wheels
that carry us to the place
where we seek solace,
a load to relieve
 
It’s a depot where we rest long enough
to gather vagabonds
and glares from trainspotters
before we chug on
with the weight of all that freight,
smokestacks spewing
wasted time
and still attached to what’s behind
Published in: on October 26, 2012 at 12:27 am  Comments (2)  
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Mid-Life Carisis

Neglect can kill old love
(If you forget the routine maintenance, that engine will not turn over)
and infatuation’s brand new car feeling
can masquerade as a reliable vehicle for escape.
When it breaks, don’t fix it;
get a new one.
            
I sure wish you would restore this old vintage beauty
and take her for a spin around the block and down the lane into the sunset.
The memories will serve you with more sentiment and cockle warming affection
than the empty reflection while seated behind the wheel of a
freshly factory delivered import that is 90% plastic.

The Hearth in my Heart

Published in: on September 14, 2011 at 1:01 am  Leave a Comment  
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