Sunday, May 19, 2013

Dirt Road IV

I urgently shout
I desperately run
I wave my hands
To get a ride to town.

My mothers sick
The broken gate,
The funeral to which
I know I’ll be late.

No matter how mad and disappointed
My black eyes and bowed stance be
You don’t stop,
You never stop for me.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Housing VI

I hear the voice of my mother.
She cries loudly from the temple mount
Of the contentment of stolen water.

Without looking up, I listen, but through my tears
I have no words, no rebuke, no comfort,
Only wisdom, always dressed in black, sits with me.

Among the mountains I hear the call
Of a silent spring, hidden and blue
Under fir and spruce, awaiting the summer
Toll of its feast and unveiling.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Housing V

At first I ground my teeth
When asking myself why I was gone.
Later I would wake up to clenched hands
In the dark, next to me a pillow--lonely.

Do you ever discover fists
When sitting, walking, thinking?
As if this divorce would be over
If I could hold onto her breath’s air.