Tag: trust

poetry, Uncategorized

who’s to blame

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who’s to blame

it’s disturbing
but for now they’re right

on some of the plots where people chose
to opt out of the county’s help
the earth hasn’t yet been mulched,
still ready for the wind to carry contaminated cinders
to the edge of town and beyond.
(shake your head here)

but on other opt-out-plots it turns out
everything has already been smoothed away –
twisted metal unscrewed from earth
ashes carried away by truck not air –
and they’re ahead of the county-trusting curve now

you know, they called it:
interference, delay, graft –
just as they suspected
but not who:
it’s business (as usual) not government
trying to squeeze more money from tragedy
carving another scar before the land can heal

poetry

meeting Camilo the green-cheeked conure

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meeting Camilo the green-cheeked conure

his little golden body hesitated
then his small pale beak
gently probed my index knuckle
and, finding it firm, fleshed, human
(though likely not as kind as my son’s)
he bridged the gap
between my son and me
straddling his hand and mine
then stepped over
accepting me enough
to enter my sphere

what joy
to hold another life
sweet as pineapple rings
glowing like sunset
to be found worthy of trust
at least for that moment

in this world
split into us and other
with limitless capacity
for cruelty,
like my sons
this little bird reaches out to me
and holds my hand
entrusts himself to my care
allows us
a chance to be gentle with each other
to see life
from another eye-level

poetry

garbled

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garbled

I remember a time
I could run my finger across your forehead
and set things right

now I gush mouthfuls of words
that hold no comfort
and I fear your heart is moving away
outside mine

but after midnight, it’s just us awake
and in the stillness
you tell me a story we both understand
about unfounded fear
and losing parts of oneself
and then we know
in the dark together
we are truly loved well
whatever we might say
however we might fail

poetry

managing panic

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managing panic

you may do your best
to turn off the part of the brain
that sees the river below
and wants to contemplate
the thin steel wire
connecting you to existence

the part that’s sure
that although you know
how to put one foot in front of the other
you may well fall/fail

those feet then dangling in mid-air
your body unsuccessfully
contorting to get grounded
your heavy self stuck
in the no-man’s land
between here and there

even if you do
reroute those synapses
your gut may still betray you
flip-flopping through
unbidden sensations
of worst-case scenarios
begging your brain to acknowledge
the distance between
yourself and safe

you are still being
your own kind of brave

meanwhile, your smallest son
bounces from one swaying beam
to the next, grinning
while the other one pauses
gets down on hands and knees
on a narrow platform
high above the river
to joyfully peer into a nest
and your husband cracks jokes
no dry taste of fear
in his mouth all day

but you still stepped out
of your comfort zone
into thin air
one shaky limb at a time
sometimes remembering to breathe

you did your best
to bypass your wiring
and persuade yourself to trust
the support would hold