Tag Archives: family

I, Father

When they were born, he was humbled quiet,
his heart taking seed in that fresh ground, quiet.

Much of the turmoil in his mind settled,
until even his feelings did sound quiet;

and when they were taken, to his own shame,
instead of protest they only found quiet.

The sapling he had been, grown in lush soil,
infertile now, withered with profound quiet.

Far too late, he begged for their love returned,
pleading tears until they were drowned, quiet.

This offense, his only true legacy,
Brendon’s mouth twisted up, bound. Quiet.

Appointment

It’s a long drive through blurred countryside,
              cars shuffling impatiently like high stakes card games.
        The wheels spin blindingly fast,
                reliving hardships,
              joy
          each burst of laughter,

every embrace, every tear.

Whether the days were full
                or wanting;
          the nights serene,
                  or fitful.

                                     We hold hands,
                            the connection between us like a conduit,
                                  relaying all that energy
                                      that couldn’t touch us when we were grounded.

                        We keep the radio off,
                                  listening now to those old thoughts;
                              those historic machines-
                            loud enough to drown out the static sounds of the road.

It’s a long drive,
                      but this kind of silence can be comforting.

Sam Talks Back

Where I was trying to find control,
                  you lost it.

            I was growing;
awkward, ungainly,
          and to shape me
          you cut me down.

Where I would seek love,
            you gave me conditions
      and where I loved you,
              you absorbed the impact,
                      in the thicker parts of yourself-
                softening the blow.

Where you are, I cannot be me,
                I cannot be.

Natural History

I remember the road,
          the air raging against us
                            while time refused to move.
          My father wore driving gloves
                  absurd shorts
                        a proud mullet.

            When we stopped for gas he’d take note:

  • The odometer
  • The amount of gas
  • The reconciled mileage

             He’d check the oil each time.

Spitefully, the car gave up before he did,
                      and for three days in Virginia
            my sister and I waited for parts to arrive,
                          so he could fix it.
            and we-
                                        could get back on the road.

I remember he was always confident-
                  hopeful;
          only ever briefly apologetic,
                secreting his resentments away
                      to hasty whispers he alone could hear.

When we finally arrived in DC,
      we had two days left to visit the smithsonian…

I can’t remember why I enjoyed it so much.

A Life Well Lived

The sunrise shattered by morning dew;
a carnival of colors dancing excitedly,
while its warmth wraps around –
like tetherball with no opponents.

The way rain feels in summer heat,
that comforting coolness, relief;
as a letter from a dormant friend
written in broken cursive.

The joy of fresh vegetables harvested,
from seeds sown of your own hand.
That long wait, the effort, vindicated
by a nourishing meal and a full stomach.

You are all these things to me,
you are indescribably more.
With exuberance, peace and pride,
a life is well lived when at your side.

Awkward Silence

Age is a home observed from a fixed perspective;
               as distance grows,
                              the place gets smaller
               more difficult to live in –
                              alien.

I have no choice but to be where I am now,
               find a way to live in that diminishing space.
that sounds like enough.

“enough” – a limit defined.

When the time comes to pursue that definition
               If anything is wrong
                              I’ll remember (my family)

These strangers with years between
               fly by night fair weather friends,
receipts with formal education
               could tell me anything but,
life insurance pays out five times my salary

So, I’ll ask
                              “How much will my life cost me?”
and we’ll laugh and laugh.

Ursa Major

Its thick fur haloed by beads of water
the monster stands patient in the river
a nearby lake’s errant playful daughter
filled with light and fish to make it quiver.
The beast stares through the shimmering surface
at silver spears darting this way and that
their panicked movements desperate and nervous
in pursuit of another habitat.

She brings her paw down like catastrophe
the rushing water erupts in violence
and the fish begs the beast for amnesty
but the giant gives only its silence.
The hunger is real and evening is nigh
there are cubs to be fed hiding close by.

Rachael Makes Her Own Place

When her eyes light up like fire
it warms me to the core
to see her mind contract and expand
embracing all that’s in store.

To find and explore new thoughts
that she wants to understand
to give more than she ever got
with an energy that will never tire.

If you ever met her before
she’s likely left you inspired
with her offer of a helping hand-
a trait I’ve always admired.

She’ll feed you the food off her plate
and give you advice to contemplate
she retains all the lessons she was taught
and is the first to suit up as your mascot

A master of wit and satire
because laughter is one of her few desires
I couldn’t ask for anything more
the person she is I truly adore.

What fortune to live a life with her in it!
That brilliant, brave and beautiful misfit.

A Night Cap

The universe has brought this moment together
  as it has with every other
    shaped from the courage of stars
      and the tenacity of mutation
manifest as you, here, now.
   Four barbs of a flower
      buried deep within me
         and only digging deeper.
The pain I feel looks like bright colors
    smells like velvet and tree bark
        tastes like crisp ocean salt.
The pain is warm like love
     sharp like satire,
  brilliant like sunlight trapped in crystals.
The pain is knowing what a gift it is
      to have you here
in this moment
in time and space
    but know that you’re not.