Tag Archives: marriage

Palm Reading

When you work with clay
you learn to enjoy the dirt,
the silt feels like silk curtains
drawn on an autumn day.

You learn to listen to the skin,
hear all the whispers spoken,
and whisper back tender questions,
that teach of the two of you together.

When you work with clay,
you explore abstract places,
pursuing adventures of vulnerability,
to discover (not exactly create) truth.

You learn that truth, alone, is nothing,
without you to define and assess it.
You make yourselves a part of that truth,
and what you sculpt together is your truth reforged.

When you can no longer work the clay,
you instead knead the aches and pains,
worn, cracked hands rather than a bust or vase,
but a landscape of passion all the same;

where peaks and valleys boast of conquest,
scars and coloration sing of compassion;
nowhere is the silence of smooth skin.
With clay my hands have been broken in.

Trinkets

Three coins strung together around my wrist;
the toll for love is always at hand,
as many paid as has been collected.

One coin gifted for the love that defines us;
the love that plays beyond the boundaries of time,
and inspires us to pursue it more.

Another owed for the love that has been taken;
always too soon, should one live to see it gone,
but owed the same, for the loss costs us no less.

A coin borrowed for the love that remains;
languishing there, just beyond our horizons,
yet no less worthy of what alms we offer.

Last, the bracelet itself, held for my daughter;
who may have forgotten that love is still here,
but still kept safe, for here love will always be.

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.

Leaning in the Corner at a Dance Recital

I’m not sure now why it didn’t break,
beneath the days – turned years – turned decades,
beneath three children, four grandkids,
beneath a 50 year marriage that almost ended twice,
beneath two tours in foreign nations,
beneath coffins filled with pieces of his heart,
peppered here and there while he lived on.

Beneath countless bouts with viruses,
an embarrassing number of hangovers,
and one exchange with polio.
Beneath all the nameless failures;
the guilt, regrets and losses.
Beneath all the great successes;
the pride and the accomplishments.

Beneath every memory whether faded or strong,
it held…
he leaned on his cane to watch another memory made
                                                                  …it did not break;
and for a moment he even looked rested.