rope, twine, trust, childhood,
lies, dreams, ribbons, memories,
secrets, chains and love
Some things that bind
Tag Archives: Poetry
The Mind
the mechanics of a mind
turning rusty with ample time
grinding teeth, fails to find
strings to silence and to bind
Escape
Are you racing down at dawn to flee a scorching fire—
or leaping up at twilight to meet a burning lover?
Perspective
Walking along the rail tracks,
reckless empowerment grips me—
if I really wanted to, I could jump a train.
I start to count the ties,
lose track, and head back home.
The current
Barges and mallards,
herons and mayflies,
grey geese and thistles
follow the river against the current.
They make it look so easy.
Possibilities
I want to be an open vessel for otherwise unthought thoughts;
a tranquil glass of tequila, ready to be injusted and enjoyed.
A single rain drop or snowflake or tear stain or puddle splash;
content to have had one moment in the sun.
I want to be the echo of swallow calls in a cave;
light refracted from window to wall;
diamonds reflected from stilled waters.
Smoke
It’s 9:00 in the morning in my steel city, 3:00 in the afternoon where you are; where Columbus set sail for the new world.
What are you doing today?
Are you drinking your afternoon café, as I sit sipping from a chipped cup at a gritty south-side coffee house?
Are you writing words in your notebook? Are you sketching scenes or pushing stray thoughts around on napkins?
Have your blue eyes turned murky grey with age?
Or do they still match my own?
Would I know you if you walked in the door right now?
Would I want to know you?
I would like to be smoking the Spanish cigarettes you smoked the last time we met. The sweet smell of tobacco forever firing nostalgia straight into my senses.
How I love to smoke, even though I don’t smoke.
Doors
Doors can be heavy
and thick;
they can be transparent
and thin.
Doors are different than windows,
whatever lies on the other side is anyone’s guess—
elephants or sinkholes,
mint leaves, magpies, corduroy or moonlight.
Evolutions
birth of a child
silent smiles
2:00 am ringing phones
death of a parent
innocent observations
unexamined answers
surfacing memories
intimate becoming invisible
cancer and chemo
hesitations in conversations
dry summer lightning
dinner with a friend
casual introductions
a photograph and a letter
Mothering teens
When my kids were younger I wanted to instill grand ideas; how to be a kind person, how to have empathy, how to be honest, how to have good manners. They were so little and I was so adamant.
Now they are teenagers.
My ideas have changed. I remind them to wear coats, I remind them to eat. I remind them that mistakes happen, sometimes, big mistakes happen. What path is to be taken after making those mistakes? What wise choices make themselves available? Will they avail?
Be happy, not necessarily behaved. (but don’t get arrested)
Be strong, not necessarily compliant. (but don’t get expelled)
Be true to yourself, not to society’s expectations. (but don’t break your curfew)
This part of parenting, this evolution and expansion of thought makes me wince and smile and stare out windows with glassy half-closed eyes in the midnight solitude.
Before I had kids, I knew exactly what kind of mother I wanted to be. I knew the rules, I knew the consequences. As the years go by, I know less and less. Who’s rules do I follow? What really are the consequences?
How can I know less now than I knew then?
Make mistakes, take chances. (but be safe)
Take a risk, don’t always take the safe way out. (but be wise)
Strike out a new path. (but don’t forget where you came from)
Of course, it’s just a matter of what I thought I knew. Now I really know, that I don’t know anything.
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