Lyric for Two

Foreign but
Familiar.

Wide, surprising smile 

Makes his eyes take
a new shape, 

playful.

The screen door 

Of the front porch

In a country home 

Opens - 

You taste a childlike charm,

At ease enough, but
yet 

to invite you in.

His eyes a brighter blue 

each moment
Passing
Quick laughter
rising, crackling, 

making sense of that saying -

He cracks you up too.

Later
in the quiet 

Dim light doesn’t hide
that weighted, 

pensive look - 

Thoughts passing through his face
like 

soft-footed cats, 

shadows

Behind silhouettes,

Sensed more than seen.

Words, unfound,
let alone 

shared with you.

Brings to mind
A boy 

I knew once.

Who wrote to me, after
our knowing 

had long passed,

To say he was
sorry.

He thought he had used me -

Sweetest heart, 

I had seen the shadows, 

Muted sorrow,

and stepped forth
willingly

To hold hands and hold

loneliness,
yours and mine.

This man, and he, share that similarity

Those quiet moments,
bringing comfort 

along with

Sadness.

Not meant yet to be shed

of the shell that 

cracked them open

And
led them
here.

Nova

The brave and balmy coast of home
The greens in blue and white
Give welcome to any who roam
Her slow but stoic sights

More hues in forests, lakes and sea
Than captured in the eye 
More peaceful, lazy country roads
To contrast lively skies

In quiet of our isolation

Waves climb cliffs to kiss our roots

Then torn up by the devastation

Our hearts dare not believe it true

Where birds once sang to earth ovation

Where broken bliss let forth a moan

That shook the rich soil at its station

And plundered us into unknown 

While lighthouse stood t’wards the sea

No sign of danger nigh

While hearts began their breaking deep

And names read far and wide

Then morning came with nation singing

Our waking an unwelcome sigh 

We thaw and soften in the grieving

We weep our last goodbyes

If nature could have been the culprit

A storm of sorts had entered in 

I would that wind or wave had done it

Our playground lost its innocence

Yet like our namesake indicates
Like moon will pull the tide
We’ll still stand tall beneath the weight
We’ll push forth strong our light

On rocky shores our candles lit
While skies shine red to join
The send off for our fallen kin
And love to guide them on

Night Talks, We Listen

He visited me at work for tea one afternoon.

He walked through the office and kitchen of a Georgian mansion, with his faded jeans, leather coat, and shuffle-swagger - slightly crooked, from years of carrying a guitar. 

Stopping by, to squeeze my shoulders too hard, plant a kiss on my forehead, put a smile on to say hello to everyone.

He sat in the lounge, chatting and drinking tea, while I typed a few emails. 
After a long quiet moment, when the lounge was empty of all but us, he said,

"I admire your work ethic."

His voice was soft, and broke a little. 
I looked up from my screen, and his eyes were teary.

"I admire you. I'm proud of you."

I smiled, said thank-you, and puzzled a bit. 

To be honest, it was an unfamiliar moment. I wasn't sure how to respond. 
I was at work, as well...
and I thought those things mattered.

I wish I had responded as heartfelt.

I didn't know that simple gesture - the open vulnerability he offered - would remain so vivid and profound.

That it would be the thing that comes to mind on restless nights. 
When school gets overwhelming. 
When winter months have me feeling low. 
When, for a minute, I can't seem to care enough to do better.

I didn't know then, that he'd soon be gone.

I didn't know how that small, simple moment would embody so much of who I knew.

Perhaps that's what parenthood does; 
some depth of him reached, stirred, shaken gently and told

"Wake up! It's time to love with all you've got."

All you've got. 

The insecurities. The tenderness. The envy. 
The exposure. 
The fear, and failure. 
The selfish, and selfless.

The love... that it be stronger, always humming beneath the rest.

... Perhaps it was some depth of him,

    reaching for some depth of me,
    to say the same.

1952

Tonight...

I'd sift through sorrows to
find moments of smiles and
hand-holds.
Too-tight arms around
weighted shoulders,
quiet thoughts bending my
mouth to frown. Lost
in heavy hard-truth
revelations.

Blue-eye contact burrows,
knowing of depths found early,
taking a toll...

Called back by the space
you'd hold,
bamboo stake standing for
this winding vine to wrap and
lean on.

Tonight,
I'd leave the dirt and roots,
To say to you, today;

This trembling heart is a growing wave.

It is ocean's fullest tide,
and the falls that feed the sea's whip and froth
under immeasurable night skies,
It is the stars -
their wild laughing glee
at my force, in the wind through mountains,
flying bitter cold, to shake the branches
pounding rhythmic, hollowed wood on wood.
All my mighty soul, making music
for being born to you.

My heart;
the impassioned crack
in the shell of the seed
of January fourteenth's
babe.

Louder Now

We live in a culture that invalidates our experience.

Families, afraid to rock the boat,
must "correct" our thinking.
Unhearing.

Partners, in fear of feeling at fault,
dismissing, discrediting, the hurt of another.

From private homes, to society's whole.
A perfect reflection.

Were we ever listening?

The Same Sea

I have some things to tell you.

Although there are a thousands reasons I couldn’t be with you, 

only one why I would have, 

it doesn’t change because I couldn’t.

Do you remember the night we talked? 

We really talked?

I held you - and you, in your way, held me. 

Loving you was a relief I didn’t expect, and an amount I’d never imagined possible. 

I’m not sure how much was said, but we spoke a million words without sounds. 

So much was connected between you and I that night. 

I felt you through me, in my past and my future - 

I felt the impossible;

to feel you so strongly through the stages of my life, when I had to leave you. 

I had to let you go.

That night, I felt like I was a drop of water, and you, the sea.

I floated through, in and out of my separateness from you, until we were merged,
and there was only love.
Nothing has ever been more confusing, or made as much sense, 
as how impossible that was;
That we could be the same water, and it be so real.

We were so gentle with one another... 

Swaying together, like seaweed drifting through low tide. 

Like hammocks in the breeze, 

or the old porch swings elderly couples hold hands on, 

watching the goings-on of children.

Like mothers, nursing babes in rocking chairs.

I was Mother Earth. 

You were the galaxy, the milky way, every star that ever held light, 

and you held me.

For awhile I’d forgotten what you woke in me. 

I suppose I had things too big to be felt for awhile, when you left - 

I had an emptiness to embrace in order to someday be done with. 

Here, on the other side of that, I’m filled with the memory of the cleanest kind of love 

you sparked. 

And the reminder, of what I learned of myself. 

The dreams I have and things I’m meant to do - as true as the love that surged and swelled and flowed and broke my heart that night. 

So I wanted you to know, I’m ready to do them now. 

The tides are roaring again, and this time I don’t fear the action. 

This time, I trust - the galaxy, the milky way, and every star that ever held light.

You are not lost, my beautiful, faceless babe - the depths of my soul and heart know this.

I am not lost, and despite that you were never born, you are the biggest reason for that.

Sunnudagur Musing

Kissed by Sunday morning,
soft light leaking towards me.
My fears and doubts fall
to the floor,
lie crumpled with Saturdays clothes,
your body holds 
my stare.

Under your cover of logic and plans, 
wild and unabashed 
somewhere in there - 
Sheets slip away and my fingers trace
these secrets onto your skin.

Your voice...
In soft, waking moans,
echoes through, calling my bones
to listen.

Your neck,
curling into my breasts.
Lips, balm to the wide, heavy heart,
open to the world 
but no one.

Remembering now,
while you gracefully,
fast and unknowingly
open a pinhole, unleashing it all - 

Sundays were somedays,
maybe nevers,
content to love unattached - 

But here with you,
reaching for me while sleeping,
I am remembering.

Details of a place I've never been -
You have me longing to be there again,

In this kind of love.
Here.
In Sunday morning.