Tag Archives: poetry

What is magic?

What is magic?
The young child asks.

Imagine,
if you will,
a scintillating light
wandering through all time and space,
linking my heart
to you heart,
to the heart of our cat,
to the heart of the pine tree,
to the heart of a virus,
to the heart of the homeless man
across the street,
to the heart of the earth,
to the heart of the sun,
to the heart of the universe,
connecting all of us into a great family
with no beginning and no end.

Do you see it?

The child scans the park
with eyes gone wild.
Yes!

That, my friend, is magic.

A Moment of No Obligations

Umbrella Day

Last night I was in a fury.
I woke up at 2:17am
And could not go back to sleep.
I was still angry
From earlier in the evening
When my take-out meal
Which was supposed to save me time
Made me late
For a meeting
I didn’t really want to go to
In the first place.

Fuming in the darkness
Because my husband’s hand
Was touching mine
Seeking contact,
Because his shoulder
Was crowding mine
Seeking space,
Because the dog
Was snuggled between my legs
Seeking warmth,
And the kitten
Lay on my chest
Seeking comfort.

Just get the fuck off of me!
Just everybody STOP
TOUCHING ME!
Stop needing things from me!

This morning I was in a rage.
I had not slept well.
I had an ice pick
Lodged in my skull
And a vice
Clamped on my shoulder.
Oh, and it was raining.

At the front door to my office
Stood a wet young man
Looking up at the sky
In sorrow.
I guess that my notice of him
Invited a response.
“I’ve been inside all week
In a conference
Looking out at the sun,
And the one day I have to
Explore the city
It rains,” he said
With a foreign accent
And one of those grimaces
That says I-am-not-all-that-upset.
“Do you have an umbrella?”
I asked.
He shook his head
And so I handed him mine.
“Really? Thank you!” he said
In wonderment and joy.

As I walked through the door
And past the security guard,
I felt tears on my face
Of release and relief.
Now, I’m just tired
but feel a little freer.

Photo: Umbrella Day by Gregory Bastien, on Flickr

Breaking the Bonds

As part of the 2011 Brigid Poetry Festival, I am posting a poem I wrote a couple of years ago as my grandmother was dying.

Geburah: Breaking the Bonds

A growing tumor in her brain
breaks down the walls
between life and death
between form and force
between here and gone
As she falls down the well
into the unknown

Sentences stumbled over
and left unfinished
leaving her without speech
leaving her without context
leaving her without a name
As she walks through the gates
into the unknown

Her body must be broken
before she can leave us behind
to rip our clothes in grief
to scream in rage and terror
to hold each other in love
As she climbs the tree
into the unknown

…into the arms of her lost beloved