Archive for March, 2011


It doesn’t feel like getting hurt,
And yet, its pain is firm.

These gentle, yet persistent pangs
Of being stitched back up,
Or learning how to open doors
We once were keen to shut…

We’re gulping pungent medicines,
And watching keepsakes burn…

The hands that dressed a hundred wounds
Are turned palms-up for alms.
And monsters underneath the bed
Are curiously becalmed.

Is this the way you heal the sick:
With thorny stems and burrs?

With stripes and scars that never fade,
With blood and bitter herbs?

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Hello Stranger

This was written on the spot and is, for the most part, unedited. Not something I am prone to doing on a regular basis, but sometimes the drive for perfection is not in the moment when the heart wants to write itself out…


Hello Stranger

You know me by the sounds of my digestion,
By the muffled rumblings of my daily tirades…
And by tentative palpations,
That I make
On my middle,
And wonder if I’m tapping at
Your temples or your toes…

I know you by the absence of my waistline,
By the inexhaustible varieties
Of newly learned discomforts,
And by tenacious tappings of your own,
You make,
With all a rookie’s certainty
(And maybe curiosity?),
Upon the limits of your warmest, wettest world…
Or so much you suppose.

Can you be suspecting?
Do you know the expiration
Of your cozy situation
Comes so quickly
Day by day?

They say I’m “expecting”,
And I am, but trepidation
Mixed with certain jubilation
Makes for more than just a simple
Waiting game.

And even as the cup runs over,
And I feel your tiny fingers
Grasping mine in trust…
And I see your tiny lips that
Latch onto my breast…
(In the firm projections mothers make
Within their minds
Of not-so-far-off times)…

Even then, I cannot know you,
More than by these present means.
And so my heart is wont to treasure
Something it has never seen.

I know you by the presence of a heart-beat,
By the inexhaustible varieties
Of newly learned emotions
That your unconditional dependence
On me makes
Me feel.

You’ve become so very real.

So take these tappings,
As all the ways I know
To show you
What your little heart-beat really means to me.

You’ve completed part of me
Once left wanting, vacantly…
And when you vacate it yourself
One day sooner than it seems to be,
Pleased to meet you face to face
We’ll be,
Even as we seek to make acquaintances
Now with what we cannot see.

I do not know if I’ll be tapping
At your temples or your toes,
I’ll wonder if I’m patting at
Your backside or your button nose…
But let me love you how I know for now,
And teach me better ways someday
When you join us in the world of air and dirt and noise…

You can’t know me much now either,
But give it time
Oh bundle of
Our greatest joys.

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Greener Grass

I missed posting last week, due to a long-awaited vacation…but here is some musing from today, in poetic form.


Greener Grass

I can’t see you clearly,
There’s so much in the way.
And my gaze is too guarded,
As I stare into space.

I see steeples and strollers
And bundles of joy.
I see castles and kingdoms
And truckloads of toys.

A garden, an orchard,
A basket of pears.
And bicycles leaning,
And ponies, and bears…

And going out bravely
And seizing each day,
And coming home quickly
To banter and play.

And teary-eyed moments
Of rapture and pause,
And sunshine so golden
Each memory thaws.

And work made so easy,
It’s simpler than play.
To thrive in the glory
Of purposeful days.

And sunsets on beaches,
And card games at night,
And jammies at Grandma’s,
And Turkish Delight.

And why can’t we get there?
And where are we now?
And where is our wardrobe
Of magical powers?

I can’t go in further,
I’m stuck here with you.
And you can’t go eastward,
You’re stuck with me too.

And gray skies are glooming,
And work is so bleak.
And laziness lingers,
Each week after week.

I can’t see you clearly,
The future’s too bright.
And now seems so empty
Of purpose or right.

I can’t see you smiling
When I come in first place.
I can’t see the laugh lines
That you put on my face.

I can’t see the garden
That you planted in May,
Zucchini plants sprawling
In a prickly display.

I can’t see the sidewalks,
The paths or the roads,
Where we cycled together
When it wasn’t so cold.

I can’t see your feet,
As they learned how to dance
With mine in a sort of
Impromptu romance.

I can’t catch a glimpse
Of you watering plants,
And me rolling my eyes
When some spills on your pants.

I can’t see you bending
Over some great big book,
As I make great big messes
In my efforts to cook.

I can’t hear the laughter
Of family and friends,
As we play host and hostess
Again and again.

I can’t see you clearly,
But I know you are there.
And I don’t know what you see,
But I know we’re prepared.

So lay down here with me
In this patch of brown grass,
And watch it get greener,
Our eyes open at last.

When we can’t see the future
Through this carpet of bliss,
Then we’ll revel in grass stains
We might otherwise miss.

So let’s get near-sighted,
And savour the now,
Grass with you is the greenest,
And I’m done with the brown.


This definitely is not the best thing I’ve written, but it has its moments…and it’s finished, for today at least. Here’s hoping for some actual green grass on the ground outside soon!

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