Monday, May 30, 2011

fade to black

from my bedroom window tonight
the picture changes little --
leaves hanging in a blue-gray heat-sky
that fades to black.

this weary mother's heart sighs;
tries again to un-furrow brow --
but every footstep in the night, every cry
tests what i am made of...

fade to black.
cut to the chase:
this heart so deep, so dry, so destitute --
i only want... I Only Want!

to bear a child is to sacrifice self.
cut that umbilical cord, and a woman dies.
i cry, "i never knew, i never knew..."
here in the dark, i see it's true.

yet i am more alive now than ever before.
three sons bear my names, my face.
all they know is all i've shown...
oh, God!!

set my footsteps. soothe my brow.
pull me from this bed of angst
and turn fear into holiness;
holiness into love...

as i fade to black.

come alive.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


when our crab apple tree is in bloom,
its petals are soft

i pull them close,
hold their perfume inside me

see them fall,
play in spring so fleeting

as they find the wind,
they blow away

when our tree has grown,
its fruit will be firm

play with us!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

get well soon

my child,
a terrible part of this
is having to turn my head away,
leave your room,
wash you off my hands

my son,
the best part of this
is the bravery in your quiet words feed me love
even as you hunger

knowing i'll be
turning my head away,
leaving your room,
washing you off my hands
...this is the worst part, your knowing

i come back to kiss your hair

Monday, May 9, 2011

hospital bed

i held you
in a hospital bed
on a thursday, all night long

i woke you; we learned together how to feed
i didn't know your cry would sound like that

my arms grew tired from holding you close
and my eyes drooped heavy
as i learned you

your face was so soft, i couldn't feel it
i couldn't sing to you; it was all too much

i hold you
in a hospital bed
tonight, for so long

you awake, feel the tape and the tube and the hole it made in your arm
i knew you would cry like that

my arms are strong from holding you close
and my eyes love your face
because i'm learning you

your face holds a few scars; i feel it
i sing and sing and sing for you

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


your craggy breath reeks of infestation.
your hair is matted into damp tangles.
the skin of your neck is hot, and it stinks.
legs thrash, blankets twist and bed creaks.

your little arm flails out --
fingers find my face and grip hard.

thrashing stills,
breath steadies,
grip loosens.

i heave in, ready to sigh for freedom of sleep.
i heave out, but my sigh has turned to gladness for these bonds:

i get to be the Mom.

we're all family here.