Love

Love is like a braid 
lives crossing, sometimes twisting
god in the middle

You Can't Outrun Sorrow

Four deaths, four years

Mother 

Friend

Brother

Other Mother

Each anniversary
a punctuation mark
like a shovel
re-digging the hole

of grief 

Then,

365 rungs

to climb out

                                                     You can't outrun sorrow

                                                             so go limp

                                                       when it catches you

  And hope

for a taller ladder

- or smaller shovel 

next year

Everything Passes

Bamboo clicking time

metronome moments of life

days, years, decades pass

Bridges

Every fall

builds a path to climb 

Every dream

a gossamer thread to hold

Every step

a footprint to guide others 

Every nod

an imprint of friendship

Every word 

a sounding for humanity

Every kindness

a boon to elevate the soul

Every prayer

a language to practice

Every act

a speck of dust containing a world

Every solace

a fragrant planting 

Every tear

a drink to share

Every smile

a bridge to our destination

Nature's Grace

I turned my face to the sun

to be warmed by nature’s grace

I tuned my ears to the trees

to hear the birds sing

and around my feet

the curled leaves twirled -

for one last dance

in the grass

with the wind.

Ordinary Things

Sometimes I 

am amazed by

the beauty of

families doing 

ordinary things

and I am

overwhelmed with

the sweetness of life

When Clouds Come Down to Play

At 20,000 feet

looking down at the clouds

I marveled at how

they looked like drifts of snow

and thought: maybe the clouds

want to be touched

so in a rush to be first

they scatter themselves

into a million little flakes

and then reassemble

on the ground, waiting

for children's hands to

fashion them into

glorious shapes

My Brother's Bike

A perfect summer day and

I will triumph over

 my brother's bike.

It's too tall and has that extra bar -

you know the one I'm talking about.

The excruciating boys' bar 
that I will struggle with today

and perhaps the rest of my life.

Rolled out - training wheels gone

I am determined, wobbly,

...and I am down.

Barely two houses past my start,

but I will not be beaten.

Me, of the 'pleasingly plump' variety,

me, of the 'smart little girl' variety,

me, of the 'baby of the family' variety,

still believing those are good things.

I climb on again -

my toes barely touching the ground

and begin to pedal slowly, 

then faster and faster, 

past Crabby Appleton's house

glorifying in my success, elated!

I see curb ahead, 

and psyching myself out

attempt the turn, fearful,

...and I am down. 

Ouch! Shoot!

Quickly I look  around, 

already more afraid

 of looking bad

then of the actual pain 

I'm experiencing.

My knee is bloodied, throbbing,

but I will not be beaten.

Now, one whole side 

of the block is gone, 

and I am passing houses 

I only know the backs of

from walking the top of the fence

behind my own, 

and I am triumphant!

Until I crash into a fence covered

in roses - fragrant roses, 
that tear at my limbs, 

yet one leg stays on the ground

and tip-toed, seeking, pushes off 

and I am my way home, 

riding like a pro.

When I get there 

my brother growls 
what are you doing 

with my bike?

Riding it, I assert,

until I have my own.

Statues Without Noses

STATUES WITHOUT NOSES

In Rome I saw
avenues of long deceased men
chiseled, upright
who lost their noses
and while still dignified
no longer appeared
to be wrinkling them
in distaste
at mere mortals passing.