poetry

not normal, not ok / unselfing

not normal, not ok / unselfing

after months of being mostly fine
one at a time today
we admit we’re not ok
we cry and storm
and frankly lose our @#$%
over nothing

but it’s the nothing of
no normal –
no normal now
no normal as far as we can see into the calendar pages
we chose one not-normal year
but never bargained for two

if in August
someone had told us what was coming
what would we have chosen?
to revel in the last months of normal
(movies, restaurants, playdates, sleepovers, baseball, shopping, concerts, hugs, puppies, coffee, museums, galleries, drinks with friends, swimming pools, trampolines, lemonade stands, parades, 10ks…)
or to see the world
while it was open?

*

Iris invites us to unself
let go
look outside
accept
we are not in control
as it was in the beginning
is now
and ever shall be
world with tricks up its sleeves
and sometimes bouquets

poetry

called home early

called home early

our adventure cut short
no sloths or macaws
Temple of the Sun
Bosque Eterno de los Niños
Panamanian private island
really no March April May plans left
probably not even empty Seawall Beach in June
our one year off hacked by a third
down the drain
alongside a pile of cash
but
we regained a winter
and a neighborhood fox
the moon waxes right to left again
our boys learn how to stand on skis
our lessons in slowing down
have been taken to the extreme
I sit with Moon Creek every day
its news an antidote to mine
more importantly
our family knows we will not leave them
we’re as safe as Americans can be
we’re done debating how long to hold out
we still have our foursome to hug
and no one we love has died alone yet
there is never a good time
for terrible events
and just look what we packed
into those six short months
we were lucky to live so large

poetry

one month in

one month in

one month in
Cedar arranges his pilfered blanket then states that’s sorted
Owen eats any dried meat he can
both boys down tea and fizzies
we know how long a kilometer feels
I give up on Owen wearing shorts or Cedar wearing trousers
we know crisps vs. chips without having to think
an African choir and yowling hyenas serenade us to sleep
we’re a little less American
and a bit more worldly