she is coming
as we all wait
wondering where and when
and at what pace
she is coming
despite our worries
of change
of labor
of our place
she is coming
and will make you a mother
will begin a new phase
our lives never the same
she is coming
and soon we won't remember
before her
so much a part of us
our hearts grown larger
to make her a space
overwhelm
that old familiar feeling
of too much, too quick, too fast
time whizzes past
as thing upon thing
fills up my life
shoulds
haves
could haves
how to slow down
how to break free
to stop the feelings of overwhelm
from overtaking me
break down
feeling so lost
yet glad to break free
let it all show
shout, cry, wail, scream
this isn't enough
this simply can't be
i won't let my life
be lived this way
by me
trying to please
never succeed
stop now
just stop
its time to be me
forget the appointments
cancel your plans
its time to
breathe in
and
breathe out
to
stop
and just be
"live the questions"
rilke said
i'm coming to find
that the questions
are round
circular and cyclical
to be more exact
no such thing as
straight to the top
instead they wind you around
and then bring you right back
cycles of living, learning
and asking
finding and knowing
and then returning
recasting
what if our goals
were shaped like a sphere
the strands of a rope
wound around one another
no beginning or end
just circling together
my mother's father died today
my grandfather officially
in truth and fact
that's what he was to me
a man i met perhaps five times
yet never really knew
no blame to place
this absence accidental
we did the best we knew
grandfather
a lofty name
men filled with the wisdom of age
who share of themselves
to make a future better
than the time from which they came
my mother's father died today
my grandfather yet to be
perhaps he will look down
and share his wisdom
in the whispering of the trees
fatigue strikes
sleep overtakes
time passes
painfully on
as fear grips me
how is it
a simple illness
such as this
overpowers
and how far removed
from this
is death
far, far of course
but the question still hangs
sickness and death
strung together
however far fetched this worry
some connection remains
and isn't it that
just that length of lifeline
that tenuous link
which makes me in this simple illness
all the more afraid
summer skies
deep evening blue
creates a backdrop like no other
soft yet stark
enveloping in its distant arc
i gaze out at the night
still but noisy
the city is alive
in midsummer glory
times seems to pass all too quickly
but this moment is perfect
and the space of it fills me
shadows cast
like memories of what's behind us
look ahead
life is now
these curving tree branches
that growling motor
the flutter of insects
and fireworks crackling
this is the moment
enveloping
deep evening blue
do you find balding men attractive because of me
my father's question illicits my laughter and surprise
you know it's the whole freud thing, he counters
i've always found women who look like my mother attractive
and while i laugh off his comment
assuring him i have no special feelings for balding men
my gaze wanders down to his hands
thick and rugged yet somehow soft
i could have told him it was his hands
those hands that look built to hold an axe
the cracks filled with dirt that can never be washed off
never mind that he's baldling
he has your hands dad
those firm capable hands
that seem as though they could lift anything
including my very self
those hands with fingers so wide
it hurts to intertwine them with mine
i met a man with your hands dad
and i knew he was the one
