A ladybug crawled
on the old man’s weathered hand
His first smile in days
Taste the square majesty of October,
announcement of important season,
Seventeen, a bricklayer’s word,
syllables one upon another.
Soft — can’t you just feel it?
And strawberry brings juices to my mouth,
like lemon, lime, and barbeque.
Piccolo sings in treble clef. All I have to do
is say the word. Piccolo.
Words are personalities. Give them faces,
see them as your neighbors, friends.
Already they have names. Roll them around
on your tongue, swallow the sounds,
Today a graduation party…
something ended, something will begin.
In a year, will he have stayed with plans?
Or will another direction beckon him?
If so, where will that be?
Today congratulations, celebration…
soon to come a jolt into the world.
A nasty case of med toxicity
has kept me far from here and from myself.
I’ve had to store some days upon the shelf
to rest and garner usual energy.
I had two seizures, unexpected foes,
and was set back. Three months and seven years
had passed since last one, and my neuro-gears
announced their need for oil. I hit the lows,
and climb back up the mountaintop is steep.
So topsy-turvy and chaotic life
has been with tangles of this angst and strife
that I have taken leave awhile. From deep
dark neurologic places I return.
A seizure teaches lessons I must learn.
I’m coming back, o yes, I’m coming back
from drug-induced exhaustion. More like spring,
I open, little at a time, and cling
to daffodil arrangements. Winter black
took all my energy and made me spin
out on my walking paths. I stand now, straight,
again feel able to walk through each gate,
hear melodies of birds, not tuneless din.
An urchin, infant, tiny new one comes,
but rocking, lurching to reality.
Spring doesn’t sing this year, but only hums
a whispered whistle. Can’t we now agree
that birth has finally, finally taken place?
The daffodils and robins do not lie.
Forsythia, like puffs of yellow lace,
tell us to winter we have said goodbye.
has your love
so quiet and fearful,
dormant in its shrouded heart?
the pale vocabulary
of this ambivalant world,
silence its own sharp betrayal.
benefit has my
abundant heart if
not sharing our pain?
of your fear.
reach for my hand
the true sky is waiting.
couple these hearts together
and we can glide above this fray.
Written April 2013
with so few words
and that infinite glance,
detour the world’s cruelties
never speak of forgiven mistakes
allay every fear and each lingering doubt
absorb life’s injustice in your enormous heart?
and the electricity of fingertips awakened my senses
yet i never thought once i deserved to be loved.
and now curling safely in it’s cradle embrace
how, is a question i hope has an answer.
i’ll continue to ask……