Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Shadow boys

Is this motherhood, this fleeting sense of ownership...
this reaching out to grip, just as it becomes a memory
this holding and releasing
This blinking, and finding
change happening before your eyes

And even when I try to hold too tightly,
they evade my grasp
shadow boys

Monday, June 5, 2006

Happy Birthday

a wee cry
and then beeping
and then more crying
and then you awe holy....
Oh ki gosh!
and singing
and singing
and singing
and praying
and laughing
and telling Buzz what's up
on the phone
banging loudly on the piano
and singing, hands flapping
the sounds of you
what joy

Happy Birthday, Richy.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

what if

what if
I call for You
and You don't come

what if
I'm waiting
and You're busy

what if
You do come
and You don't like me

what if
You change everything
and I don't like it

what if
I try really hard
and I still can't find You

what if
everybody asks me where You are
and I don't know what to say

what if?

Sunday, April 30, 2006

6 years

When you left.... I said I didn't think I would ever laugh again.
But I roared and guffawed at your memorial.
You made me this way, you bad man.
I can't sit through a wedding or a funeral
Without a wicked little dialogue in my head,
Telling me what is so funny.

I thought I would never have
That strength and stability
Home, family ever again
But there was Mama.

I thought it was over
This comedy called
Parenting adults
Seeing how rich and how funny and how strange
But Georgia

I thought no one would charm the waitress
The cashier
The guy at the drive through
And do crazy things in public
But there was Bobby

I thought I would never
Catch someone's eye in church, or a meeting
And have to look away because something is so funny
I lost my friend, I thought
But Leah

I thought we had lost
The black and silver fire
Mystery and grace
Wrapped in hilarity
But.... Calvin

I thought the shoulders were gone
Those broad shoulders to ride on
And all the tricks and teasing
But then I found my kids up there
And there was me

It's not that I don't miss you
It's just that you left so much behind
For us to enjoy

Happy homecoming, Daddy
I hope you have a G5

Monday, April 3, 2006


I guess
this is the joy that comes in the morning

And maybe I can see again
I hope

I think
It's safe to open my arms
And welcome in the prodigals

Maybe I am somehow becoming
Whole again
I am

I find
That I can laugh again
And cry from more than grief

This ending
is a beginning
the sun is out
I see

Thursday, March 30, 2006


from a liquid room
eyes shut, body curled
I saw You
warm, surrounding

I saw You
sun-dappled days
grass and swingsets and books
embracing, accepting

I saw You
brave and scared
strong and safe

I saw You
strings and percussion
big yet close

from a dark room
eyes shut, body curled
I saw You
fierce and unprotective

I saw You
angry but hoping
wild and unsafe

I see You
warm and surrounding
embracing, accepting
strong and safe
big yet close
fierce and unprotective
wild and unsafe

Friday, January 27, 2006


there’s a somber sweetness about childhood.
i remember walking barefoot. half painted toenails carefully navigating over white broken rocks. finding treasures: a red leaf, a stream running through woods. a trail through trees to my friends house.
i remember anticipation. always, something coming.
i remember running to the ice cream truck, waiting in line. getting something, usually red. trying to keep it from running down my arms by holding it out. tangy cold sweetness. red is the color of childhood.
i remember friendship. closer than sisters for days on end. then the bitter acrimony of switching sisters. secrets on the playground. songs sung with what seemed to be great skill.
i remember running. whatever it was, i couldn’t get there fast enough. running, arms spread out to be a pegasus. running, arms tucked to make it to base. running, spinning, laughing, falling.
i remember knowing. i’ve forgotten now.
i remember being a daughter. the safety of home.
i remember cats. lazy furry curly cats.
i remember barbie. long blonde hair and carefully painted eyes. ken was always dutiful and captivated.
i remember boys. the smell of sweat always mixed with crayons and the sawdust from pencil sharpeners. knowing they were looking and finding myself talking too loud.
i remember lunches. crisp crackly brown paper bags. peanut butter sandwiches on white bread.
i remember innocence. believing in a world where evil was only in the movies, and bad guys always came clean at the end.
i remember thinking that i was the only real thing and everything else was a dream.
i remember beautiful days, grass and sunshine and puddles.

i remember thinking that in the end, everything would work out fine. i was right.