nothing in this day is mine, nothing ever mine
I am empty
could not see this today, too full of self
falsely disconnected
everywhere felt strange, everyone a stranger
forgot to bow in wonder, did not smile in thanks
all family everywhere, related to me over and over again
if I could remember to see
let sadness rest a brief cloud of ignorance, not make it the sky
I could hold out a hand to you all the ones of you
open it, give you a heart a flower a bird poised to fly
he died. he was killed. he killed himself.
his face so gentle when he gazed towards the world
steeled in judgement when he turned towards the mirror.
perhaps. we don’t know for certain, for no one came to tell us
their hands filled with grief, the overflow of tears
all we can see is the holes that appeared in our quotidian walk
smiles not given, kindnesses not done, bits of sparkle and joy gone missing
mourn if we want and for a time, but better would be
once we notice a gap, think how to fill it anew
he left his heart here, I know
it shines in your eyes my eyes and the eyes of us all
did I watch the sun disappear
I answer no, I danced instead
I sang to someone who was afraid
and held her in my arms
the sun leaves us every night then to return
a regular fable we tell ourselves
her life less certain, and so
I would rather gaze at her to gage her eyes
love burns much brighter, time so brief
let others behold the wandering sun
because the tidal overwhelm of war remains,
and women cry until they have no voice
and orphaned children die in cratered streets
and everywhere men kill other men because they can.
I sit with my back straight and become glass.
all the grief of the world washes through me
and through you, a darkened ink of light.
we breathe. all we can do.
because the common squabble of life constantly rains,
and this one accuses that one over something
and words become harsh here there everywhere
and bitterness becomes ordinary coin.
I carry kindness in my pockets to give away
as do you, little bits of good to see us through the day.
we smile. all we can do.
we all do what we can. that is all we can do.
because the language they taught me
was not enough, a paltry thing used only by them
and I wanted to talk with trees, I made my own
words reached into the sky, not grasping like hands
but open like branches, with silences so that birds could alight
and not be scared and so share their stories
though most thought me solitary even friendless
I laughed at this, being only alone
when I had to go out among them, and I felt pity
for all they could not hear
I am not there will never be again
yet know how the water can be so dark so still
the trees leaning over the banks from either side
an arched leaf canopy to block the sky
a refuge for those weary and unable
to live up to the pressure of a summer day
the constant expectation of carefree childhood
placed even on me
who always always knew that a lie
before I knew paintings were to be seen only with your eyes
because artists kindly understood different ways
I would walk to their work with outstretched arms
run my hands across the surface to find how it appeared
green felt different from orange or red or blue
yellow was so distinct I would tell the painters
it smelled like metal in the hot summer
a few would nod and sit on the ground beside me
they knew the world was like this, all texturecolorsoundscent
and we could talk
we fought a silent war in a battlefield that changed
sometimes clothing, sometimes names, sometimes behavior
the ground remained the same
she said I was a girl though disdained me for a daughter
I knew I was not, had always known, refused to back down
that was really what she hated, that I would not be quiet
her campaign became scorched earth
since she could not win, she would simply destroy
to prove herself right, she threw me to harm
a girl can have horrible things done by horrible boys
a girl can have terrible things done by terrible men
still I talked and said what they did, what they were allowed to do
a girl can be told that she makes things up and worse
a girl can be told that everything was her own fault
I was not the girl she tried to make me become
I walked away after all they did and all she said
I found my own place in the world
they/their/them
grief again again and again
a poet killed, a writer imprisoned
a boy in hunger, a girl in flight
missiles through the sky, bombs beneath the earth
the world wailing and tears the only language
then
small kindnesses stave the overwhelm of despair
a fallen jacket returned, unnoticed on the cafe floor
a brief smile shared, passed along on the back street
a local sign righted, toppled by the afternoon wind
a barking dog petted, uncaring of consequence
such acts of connection reminders, allowing all to breathe
love heals, and in many forms
he came dressed in knowledge
with offers to drape well-being around me,
a scarved testimony to his infinite powers
eventually I saw him in different garb,
the endless flow of information worn thin
though never transparent
when you know everything about everything
how can you let people see you
bend under the weight of such heavy self-regard
the burden of always being right
I’m happy scrubbing dishes and cleaning the floor
