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Walking Down Main Street (Poem)
do you walk differently, unsure, unsteady
not knowing how to gauge the space between
do you stumble on the rough silences
but fear to reach out a steadying hand
family neighbors friends guests once
so memory insists, a probable illusion
I still offer greetings returned with sharp stares
And sometimes such hostility that I’m forced off the sidewalk
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Who I Am (Poem)
Not the applauded figure that everyone wants to hear.
There are enough of those,
And I do not have a good loud voice.
But the small person who lingers at the edges,
Picking up what the listeners leave behind.
The discarded flyers the illusions they wished to abandon.
The crumpled snack packages the food they found unnourishing.
The paper cups the empty dreams they hoped to fill.
Carefully I place these in the designated receptacle.
As I walk back to my room, I ponder them with a sigh and a quiet laugh.
This is a very good life.
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Sweetness Comes After Tears (Poem)
Hands busy with chopping
Suddenly stopping, knife in midair
Hearing a soft voice murmur with laughter
Throwing the onions in a sizzing hot pan
A gnarled hand gentle on my face, and the words
Sweetness comes after tears
All these, and I’ve no family.
