Two poems about Grace

The Dark

You used to be immune
To fear and understanding,
And who knows whether we kept you that way
Or if it’s by design,
But the thin thread held tension just long enough
For us to get comfortable

Until that night you wanted the door open
Light on
One more story
Drink of water
Don’t leave, please.

When did you become afraid?
Was it just today
That our words became warnings?

I can only pray for you to know better,
See the clay under your nails for what it is—
Dirt.
But also work and weight and wonder.
See in the dark as He does,
With that blind instrument of grace.

-January 2015


Does It Matter?

Does it matter which way is home
When the water freezes and cracks
If you travel by mustard seed trail
Or neon road sign’s flash

If giving into hunger
You run aimless for awhile
While bats and birds
Line up on the cables and smile
For miles

Does it matter which way is home
If you stand and wait and call
Until momentum or a branch
Drives you forward or you fall

And even so, who’s left to say
That the way you’ve gone is not the way?

-January 2015

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Around the Table

Around the Table

Magic happens around the table
Food disappears and people speak up
about their days and differences

We learn something
And let something go

We taste and see,
Are seen and known

Where the Infinite hangs on every word:
God is great
God is good
Let us thank Him
For our food.

Amen.

table

January 2015

The Boats

The Boats
January 2015

Your bed is a boat in the dark,
All blue plaid and stillness,
With a host of lighthouses above as you sleep.

A turquoise sailboat sits on the shelf in the closet,
painted by your mother, for her father
who never saw you sail it.

He wanted to be a sailor, you know,
but was always getting seasick
And settled on taking the boat to the park
but never did it.

He painted those lighthouses for you
and the ship keeling in the waves;
For your brother, too, before he even knew of him.

So much of life that he wanted–
He would have thrown himself overboard for the both of you,
And now we do.

There will be a mundane day or two, of course,
Then fire and noise–
That’s how change happens.

But for now, just your soft whistle breathing
As you sink deep to see what dreams wait.

You are a coracle,
Here is your Ithaca.
Trust the wind, be full,
And go.

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Worry

Worry

I planned a trip
and packed
Picked the babysitter
and prayed
Tried to enjoy myself
while watching videos of you
from last Christmas on our way out to dinner.

When I got home you said,
“Mommy, I was worried about you.”
Sweet boy, you have no idea.

-Chapel Hill, October 2014

“Mom ePoems”

Today I’m sharing some of the little poems I write in my head in the middle of the night while I’m feeding babies. I started doing this with my first son, Ryan. Now with my second son, and my increasing internet comprehension, I’ve given them a name, “mom ePoems”. Whether you’re a mom or not, I hope you enjoy…

***

Feeding You

Today I fed you ham
and I fed you peas
and cheese

Then you ate a snack
and another,
crumbs growing on your face

sipping milk through a straw
and leaving bits of food on the end

You burped and laughed
and looked at me expectantly,
“More?”

I sighed.
I don’t think there’s anything left to give you.

(May 2013)

***

First Weeks

Your father (not me) once said that
it’s hard to love them when they’re just a blob with eyeballs

But I think your eyeballs are one of your best features

(May 2012)

***

Go Slowly

Go slowly,
you will hurt yourself.

you will choke on all of those Ritz crackers

you will leave me
Go slowly.

(Spring 2013)

***

Her Again

Today you came home with your first black eye
and I said, “Who is she?”
Who let you fall, believing there was a step made for you
When there was none?

(Fall 2012)

***

Being Tired

I am tired.
There is a bull-weevil of tired-ness
Burrowing through my soul

And I am wanting just to lie here,
even though I can hear you crying

And wait until you’re eighteen
and you come in to check on me.

(May 2012)

***

Hold all the looseness up

Hold all the looseness up,
Spin it around
and set it down
Until the looseness leaves
And we are left with longing.

(August 2014)

***

Pregnancy Test

Weeks are a funny thing.
You can have 40 left
and life is just beginning
Or ending.

(September 2013)

***

Milk Neck

When you were new and I was new
There was a smell

I had no idea where or what it was

And then one day I discovered the old crusted milk
in the fat folds of your neck,

Poor neglected child you were.

After that I was more vigilant
And I didn’t let the milk dribble and collect

But I kind of missed the smell
–it was addicting

Now you smell so sweet
Your neck and hair

I sink my face in when you’re close

Sweat, salt, cream, sugar
all, both, please

Nothing rancid
It is almost too good.

(May 2012)

***

Your Hair, for Ryan

Your hair has made you many things
Banker, boxer, boy

Rock Star

The night you came it was so black
with your light brown skin
that I was sure you were Hispanic

Then suddenly it was red
and in your green jumpsuit
you looked like a leprechaun

Then bald and serious

Then light brown

Now blond.

What will next season bring?

(Summer 2013)

***

Waste

So many houses being torn down
So much packaging.

Your yogurt has a container, a carton and a box

What are we doing while we are unwrapping?
While we are wasting time?

(Summer 2013)

***

Stay tuned for more babies, more poems…

Coming soon…

My first eBook. OK, go easy on me people…it’s my first one.

I wanted to write an adventure travel book for young girls (ages 12-16). Soon it will be available on any eReader platform.

Thanks for checking in! and hope you enjoy…

BK00026728

 

Josephine Bianchi is about to be a senior in high school, but first she has to survive the summer.

It seems easy enough—she’s being sent to Sicily to work at her uncle’s bed and breakfast. It’s her father’s idea to banish her to the island of her ancestors, far away from her somewhat reckless group of friends at home.

But in the quiet town of Capodanno Josephine encounters the unexpected—a handsome amateur cyclist named Luke and a mystery that will forever change the way she understands her family. When her curiosity extends too far, and she learns that the Mafia also has an interest in her family’s secret, Josephine’s idyllic summer job takes a dangerous turn.

Things aren’t much better at home where her parents have just received terrible news, and now Josephine will have to navigate unfamiliar territory on both sides of the ocean.

One thing’s for sure: if she does return home, nothing about her life will ever be the same.