icu

i take the empty midnight elevator ride
up into the bowels of the cancer wing
where he lies broken covered in blisters
parched like a shriveled oak leaf fallen
twisting under an August midday sun.
Just the two of us now and his laboring
breaths i time with my own heartbeats.
Undoubtedly, it is here we are confined
to be bluntly shown death and infirmity
that the moment has come, expectedly,
denied, then cruelly inescapable for us.
Morning they’ll pass through here again
found relatives and bleary-eyed friends
trading his quiet peace for condolences
finding my sister ruptured beyond hiding
pains black and heavy as trapped stones
on the dark bottom of a silent river bed.
What can anyone say really on a specter
of an idea not for their comprehension.
What should we say even for each other
when the toxic combination of sedatives
and chemo sets his skin on fire as he casts
delirious away blankets exposing a failed
body to our red welling eyes and oblivion.
So near the end we simply pray for release,
for that moment when we can bring our
father intact home again, a subdued heart
left dignity, dreams grandiose unrealized,
to where our mother sits gazing out from
their bedroom window through the pines
wondering if her journey for love has been
worthwhile after all over the twisting road
of inadequate apologies to wishful reversal
living a widowed irony.

(our Dad who fought a hard, at times heroic, battle and lost to cancer.)
*photo with permission and credit to Chad Latta
http://www.flickr.com/photos/chadlatta/4104477481/in/pool-342145@N24/

friends

This is my lot forever bound to yours
heart guiltless of shame, pity and hubris
knows not envy for those but glad grace
fate smiles for inside soft palaces of kings.

This is my life forever bound to yours
time rolls curtains slow dawn to darkness
nights echo shine headlights two-by-two
cobblestones cold or wet through seasons.

And this my love forever bound to yours
soothes forgetfulness over thirst or hunger
all hard misjudgments will never stain
all comforts drawn from a gentle touch.

(for all canine best friends and our beloved Casey, Biko and Moby)
*Photo with permission and credit to Paul Watson

illusion

Who is this pretty bruised woman
bearing children for lost angry men?
And who herself seethes with anger
when choices made not seemingly
forgotten or understood.
Bare ignorance is mine entirely,
no judgment as to reasons, to the end
results. Why would anyone fling
honed daggers at innocent bystanders?

And her wandering children outside
could be pretty or homely,
sweet or sour even…
But should always be pretty and sweet
snug to loins which sprung them right?
Shouldn’t their fragile blossoming bodies
be cradled close to mother and father
(but oh not too so closely now)
in brightly lit family rooms?

And where are those fathers anyway?
Fitting perhaps they hide,
never seem to be around anyhow,
back doorsteps flirting with absence.
Tough lifting and holding i suppose
puny disoriented souls, little pink booties
merry-go-round in mud puddles,
dripping warm diamonds and pearls
down murky broken waters in the rain.

How long could innocence be contained
framed through a jagged window pane?
Heartbreaks lurking shame weeps alone.
Born to keep a broken family fed
the children’s bed safe and warm
too many damp socks too little sunshine
neglected hearts grow restless then unkind
till her weary spent calling love breaths
yearn dazed drifts over the thin white lines.

(from a volunteering stint at a women's shelter)
*Photo with permission from the generous and highly gifted Etienne Pisano

now

Back then, i didn't know
how to see myself
through your longing eyes,
solitary when the mirror
gave a partial frozen image
that couldn't keep itself in your
soft mercy over disbeliefs.

i didn’t know how to cradle
your heart even less mine,
fill it with simple dreams and
reckless abandon for failure
or banishment. Love seemed
far away like a faint distant
beacon through the haze.

My fear risked nothing
still contrived to lose it all.
i stepped to the other side
of an open door then vanished
completely from your light
and witnessed a bright Virgo
drifting through the stars.

Would it be possible now
to retrace my missteps,
sift through the gritty sands
in this barren desert
and find the hidden oasis
waiting in timeless patience
for the traveler’s return?

Or it is simply too late
recollecting hopes in a porous
vessel for a life unbalanced,
and you would kiss me now
more in sympathy than regret
set me free like a lost dove
its troubled journey is undone.

*photo with permission and credit to Keith Watson of Ontario
http://www.flickr.com/photos/keith_watson/421991890/

postcard

A postcard from my lost love
arrived in my box yesterday
tender words her gypsy heart
found respite peace to say
time looped our history
some helpful came a bit late
twisted fate held ours
on chosen separate ways.

Long i dreamt the vision
fault mine skipped a move
what else could be done love
with a virtual piece of you?
blew a mute wandering kiss
drawn to your distant face
traced fingertips like before
heart outlined empty space.

(she prods me till I write amusing little rhymes.)
* postcard with permission from lovely Colleen

someday

someday
in that far yet foreseeable future
when our scars no longer matter
and choices return full circle
where we first met for us
to speak of love again.

charge by absence and time
with a single heartfelt purpose
to bring back the mixed laughter
once heard in our joyful voices
floating above the generous Earth,

together we walk beyond roads
under autumn sanguine colors
fade into dusk without sorrow,
muse a question "what was it
in the balance of all things
turned into silent disregards?"

and hope lives on
the horizon’s edge of golden light
where our hands search to hold,
our linked shadows softly
into cool evening fall.

take me

Take me on that tempest’s night,
when flowers fold beneath torrents,
to the secret place where you hide,
unfilled lonely spaces in your heart.

And softly i will come near,
gently touch you enclose you,
melt into you like rays from a fire
on a sharp winter night.

Then you will find me deep within,
a tempered white river flowing dreams.
Love’s unrepressed residual
removed from silence from Time.

Then you will know what i am
always. i am your lived days,
your precious laughter and tears,
and their net worth their everything.

i have come into the placid pool
reflecting your grace a gentle smile.
Epiphanies like stars in your eyes,
chart the blessed course of my life.

*Photo credit to Diddý from the awesome and mystical land of Iceland