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.

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.

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.