Unlocked Gates

Peering through

unlocked gates

imagining protection

Peering through

unlived lives

imagining fulfillment

Peering through

unknown eyes

imagining danger

Peering through

through peering

enough peering

Enough

 

 

I am the One who chooses

Today you’ve been gone 27 years

I can’t pull up your silent body as my immediate memory of you

It’s not gone but far away, where it belongs

That’s a long time to reach for your joyful face

Thank you for all that you’ve taught me, for waiting with me these 27 years

 

I choose to hear your laughter ringing in my heart, to see a grin that held secrets

 

I choose to go outside and breathe in deeply, the memory of your smell

Maybe hug my dad a little longer because he smells like you

 

I choose to stop searching for the memories of you unresponsive in my arms

Instead I will replay the sight of you hooking your toes on the front of your swing

and squealing out in delight

 

Today I choose to replay all of the living moments of your life that I can reach

I choose to loop them through my soul until joyful tears fall freely

 

Today, every day, I choose to celebrate that we shared life

That I still get to share life with your dad and brothers

with many that I love

 

I choose to embrace that I am – that I always have been – the best mom that I know how to be

 

Today
I choose peace

Happy Birthday Justin

Today is my middle son’s birthday. He would have been 27 years old. Living with loss is a funny state of being – we fight it at every turn, always dimly aware that it is inescapable. We create habits to keep us from losing our keys, our place in a book, lists so that we don’t forget one of life’s latest ingredients, we play puzzles to keep from losing our memories and thus, our minds. All this effort to avoid the ultimate equalizer of death. Justin died of SIDS the week before he would have been 6 months old.

Like anyone, I did not want a tremendous loss to be part of my reality. Not me, I don’t belong in this club. A good mom, a great mom…she’s not the mother of a dead child. It’s odd how I let the words of other people sometimes reinforce this falsity. I have to remind myself, they just don’t get it. All of us, regardless of your beliefs, we are human and must investigate our surroundings, our relationships, our relationship to everything through our unique perceptions and abilities. We are not meant to be perfect. If we are lucky we maintain the ability to shift and learn through the lifetime process. If we are luckier still, we have love in our life that is not lost but transformed and weaved into our story. Is it always joyful? No. An easy road? No. Is it worth the risk? Yes.

In past years I’ve often marked anniversary dates with poems to record my feelings regarding the death of Justin. I’ve never wanted to proclaim myself any more knowledgeable than another person on how separation by death feels. I felt that poetry was vague enough to easily be molded to others’ perceptions so that they could decide if there was benefit in my words. I still believe that to be true. Today is different. Today I want to risk being more direct about my feelings regarding Justin. I want you to know about him and the importance he plays in my life and who I am…and who I am becoming. Yes, he is sometimes seen as that tear you want to hide from – sometimes that silly smile as I sing along with an old song – he is part of me…every day. I want you to know so that you can understand why I am celebrating today. Like my other sons and all the important people in my life, Justin is worth celebration.

Please do me a favor as I honor his memory and place in my life and take time today to celebrate those that matter to you. Celebrate them if they are standing next to you, across the country, across the world, in a different belief system, a confusing time in their life, a confusing time in your life, in a difference of opinion, or simply in your memory. Allow me today to be bold enough to proclaim the importance of loving, deeply, with your entire self, even at the risk of losing it all.

Messy

heaped clothing

eventually washed

yummy remnants

left soaking

puddle splashed

spot treated

paper piles

sorted filed

sleep breath

cleansing brush

heart broken

tears cleanse

Treading Upward

I may not know the loss of a continent

or a lover

but I have lived the ripples of a pond

with stone cold drops to the bottom

heart and lungs weighted with life’s heavy rope

to the depths it sent me searching

for a perfect sunrise without a sky

winter’s bloom with no air

the ache of your absent body

answering only to arms of self abuse

houdini existence with me escaping life

wondering why i could not heal

lacking the balm of action

brought from tackling fear anew

 

 

 

Scuba Vows

stories wash up

upon calm seas

tangled  amidst

driftwood shores

images follow

brilliant snapshots

reflecting the sun

funny that

self contained

underwater

breathing

aparatus

turned one into two

synchronizing lives

combining goals

creating a circle

instead of tying a knot

The New Sentinel

memories are singing

through me, from me

louder than canyon echoes 

i watch us

tinting our expressions

with borrowed confidence

we are the parents now

the aunts, the uncles

wanting to pass along

the tribal rites

link arms in communion

surrounding the young

providing a haven

of knowing, of being

with each other

integral to the clan

remaining elders

test the strength

of our bond and purpose

while relaying again

the lyrics of our song 

reluctantly i submit

to the changing of the guard

Birthday Fun

Last Friday was my birthday. My sister greeted me with the following poem that she wrote and I just had to share. Birthdays are so much fun! 🙂

Happy birthday to my sister,
from me and the mister
so much fun you can’t resist her,
she’s like a crazy twister
Ooo, look at that faucet, I think it might be a pfister!

 

Fallen Timber

Driving past forgotten houses
I remember from tree roots when
Life was bursting with family
Mariachi songs filled our bellies

Abuelita didn’t come to visit us 
Wisdom simply resided upstairs
Leaves whispering across the breeze
Decoding the immigrant speech

Then Grandma was sent away
She could only swear in Spanish
Sure that we had hidden her baby boy
Though the bough had broken long ago

Captured by an American disease
That called an institution home
Swinging from severed limbs
While screaming for her lost son

Splintered Looking-Glass

i haven’t the secret
that will fill the hole
or soak up sadness
like a paper heart 
no magic knowledge
to guide you through
splintered looking-glass
now covered in clouds
but i spied you once
wrapped in navy blue
speckled with sapphire
gazing at the world
you found your feet
then joined the dance
don’t sit out now