Hallway to Nowhere

Category: grief

  • When Trees Begin To Scream (Poem)

    when air is too heavy to breathe

    and heat an inescapable surround,

    trees begin to scream.

    were we to hear these death shrieks,

    would we open our mouths agape and join in,

    until the earth rang with fiery laments of rage and grief?

    more likely shake our heads in momentary sadness,

    return to our cool interiors,

    watch a documentary about magnificent forests,

    perhaps remarking, “oh, what a shame.”

    some willfully ignore the sound,

    disbelieving that anything deciduous has a voice

    or one that counts, as it does not vote or work for them.

    most will be unable to hear,

    too busy groaning out their own last gasps

    as they labor under the the sun’s relentless gaze,

    while we privileged few live in the shade.

    best start listening now.

    when they become silent, that is the end.

    our screaming will last for a much shorter time than theirs.

  • Mother Hole (Poem)

    she put me in the car

    drove headlong into the oncoming lane

    that was the first time

    she picked up a skillet full of hot oil

    flung it at my head

    that was the second time

    she took me to a strange city

    abandoned me on the street

    that was the third time

    I never knew still do not know

    what she thought to do by any of these things

    the first destroyed a sense of security

    but heightened awareness

    the second killed a hope for love

    but taught trust in reflexes

    the third wiped out desire for a relationship

    but rewarded the tendency to be prepared

    I cannot say I lost her-how do you lose one you never had-

    though for many years I grieved over the empty space

    where she might have been

    this has become only sadness

    over what she could have had

    over the damage she must have suffered

    over the inability to build a bridge she would accept

    but also gratitude for the strengths I have

    my heart once so hurt I did not think it would ever heal

    now opens wide enough to invite the world

    to rest within an infinite expanse

  • How We Become The World (Poem)

    weary of navigating this terrain

    the constantly shifting landscape of malfunction

    physical breakdown and decay

    eyes do not see clearly, nor ears hear

    breathing an onerous labor and disruptive

    of the smallest ordinary act

    confusion steals former abilities away

    by turning the mind into an unnavigable maze

    institutions stymie their designated intent

    with such regularity as to make them suspect

    as they heap more suffering on those who presume

    to ask them to perform their basic task

    this casual cruelty surely accidental

    life is not purposely unkind

    though to those who struggle in the harshness so ready at hand

    this matters not

    sometimes there seems little remedy and yet

    be with each other, witness to the end

    hold and give comfort, all are in need

    just this is enough

    just this is all there is

    just this

  • Funereal Years of the Anthropocene (Poem)

    flowers have died despite care

    we too shrivel in the dry hot wind

    we wait upon rain in the evening

    placing hope in the massing gray clouds

    neighbors murmur to each other

    tonight I have heard it will come

    one places an umbrella beside the door

    another his rain boots

    and one carefully checks her water gauge

    remember how recently it poured everyday

    vegetables rotted before they could be picked

    ants invaded homes to escape the wet

    streets became fast-flowing creeks

    drought, flooding, we move through it all

    with eyes closed and fingers crossed

    believing that superstitious behaviour will save us

    instead we are being delivered

    to the consequences of turning away

    when shall we mourn

    how shall we grieve

  • The Perfect Joy of Summer Squash (Poem)

    how can I not remember you? how can I forget?

    at the market you would gently pick through summer squash

    to find the ones that were just the color of the sun

    and hold a blueberry to the sky before tasting it for sweetness,

    then at home, you would spread all we bought in riotous display

    and circle it talking aloud to yourself of the delicious possibilites.

    sometimes when we cooked, you’d dance around the kitchen

    and grab my hands to pull me in until I joined you.

    you said I was too serious always and your job was to make me laugh.

    oh love, long ago and too soon gone love, you did that so well

    that still I remember your lessons and the beauty of your smile.

    did I hold you enough? no, never enough, yet I tried to the very end.

    though you slipped away to wander the unknown fields of death,

    you remain with me in unexpected ways, forever my abiding joy;

    forever my happiness; forever my heart.

  • Break Your Heart Open (Poem)

    not a stranger

    someone whose days I do not know

    journeying to another shore

    my heart breaks with this knowledge

    so should yours though you do not see

    her smile filling her eyes

    her face mapped by life still being lived

    let it touch you nonetheless

    this is how we love each other

    our hearts fractured by beautiful sadness

    our hearts broken open

    (for Beryl)

  • War In Perpetuity (Poem)

    we lucky ones never fought in war

    but we all love some who have

    war that people argue over

    tell stories about or refuse to discuss at all

    war that took them away and sent them back

    kept part of them in some far away place

    war that made strangers of their hearts

    sent their eyes into a distant gaze

    war that continues to wreck them

    wrecks us all as we try and fail

    knowing this we decide again and again

    that we will fight wars and

    fighters will come home or not

    in the end none escape

    we cannot seem to learn

  • Should I Have Danced? (Poem)

    I was young once never young enough

    to call myself a flower

    dance barefoot in the grass

    my lover wove garlands of clover

    tossed them at my head

    I threw them back at her laughed

    within a year she was dead

    I imagined I would follow

    yet now here I am

    picking clover on the hillside

    missing her still

  • This Is How It Is Now (Poem)

    the air burns bright with ghosts ablaze

    shining with incandescent need

    frantic hands snatch words from speech

    maws agape in desperate hunger

    they feed and feed and feed

    in such a space and time as this

    we cannot talk

    we cannot hear

    they ignore tears limning our faces

    we can see each other grieve

    let us give comfort

    let us give kindness

    feed starving spirits these

    together we’ll sweep up their ashes

    to keep as reminder, a holy relic

  • Rain Falls Harder Than Our Dreams (Poem)

    those had weight once

    determined we slung them across our backs

    inspired we cradled them near our hearts

    older now we’re burdened by the stones in our pockets

    those things we pick up on the way

    to give them to someone put them somewhere

    use them for something we never remember

    still we grab more and more

    over the years it becomes too much

    we shrug off the heavy hopes

    those discare the rocks we choose

    they break into pieces with a thud

    some end up in our pockets

    some shake the building