Respite

The room, it's in shambles

The rain drums the windows

The heartbeat is fainter

Once voices have ceased

Beleaguered by demons

Deliver their opus

Admire their handiwork

It's quite something to see

It's time for the pilgrimage

Land of your birth

Years spent in exile

Countries closed borders

Embark on the voyage

There's no way back home

Memory

What is to be done
the machine is outmoded
where do the cogs go
the spokes and the wheels
where is their home now
the factory shut down

What is to be done
it's becomes obsolete
don't hold on too tightly
don't let it go
it's best to forget it
but try to remember

What is to be done
the city is drowning
the life vests are heavy
but so are the cries

What is to be done
it's all placed in boxes
hold them in weary hands
they gather the dust

Wheel

I used to believe
in the sanctity of lines
continuous
inviolable
unending

Cars on highways
always seemed to have
delineated trajectories
yellow boundaries meant safety
and once I wondered about
the mysteries that lay
in hiking trails shrouded in foliage
relieved still to know
beginning, middle and end

The way multicolored plastic pieces
were moved in children's games
according to rules
printed on inserts
inside worn cardboard boxes

The steps of a ballet dance
we performed at a recital
choreographed and practiced
in pink candy tutus

One day a face
I had seen before
in a place that existed in memory
the lyrics of a song
whose tune played in recesses
the volume low
yet still the voice
recognizable

I felt the rain
and it was the same
morning glories
September and
the smell of books

I lay down my shield
abandon my shelter
and now
I believe in circles

Learning to Remember

Tell me how to memorize
the contours of your face
the positioning of your bones
the weight of your eyelids
the shapes of the lines that dance so freely
once in awhile I try to seize them
when you are not looking

Allow me to steal it from you
so one day when you are gone
so one day when I am gone
so one day when time has forgotten us
I can hold it in my hands
and know that you existed

You

I will write you a poem
Though I don't yet know the words
They are undoubtedly floating
Somewhere in the stratosphere
Waiting to be caught
In my net of butterflies

For a Hero

They tell you to avoid the dark
I know that you won't
the night suits you too well

Question marks may loom large
edges may be sharp
but they don't frighten you

I imagine you a swan
gliding placid
through a world of concrete
and the cacophony
of shouts and horns

For My mother, RC, RMR, AH, and MM, my inspirations. May I always strive to follow your path.

Sister

Hillary
Have you memorized
the melody of your life?

Perhaps
You think you've found the space
where dark and light
converge

I would urge you
to forget
The tune must play itself

Instead I simply
write my lyrics
in hopes that you
unlearn the song

It's Hurricane Season

The hurricane shakes the windows
I huddle on the couch
It surges through my body
Neurons fire, uncontrolled
It thieves from me the beings
Denies me what I love
The doctor says it is a dream
I will never quite be whole
Learn to live with it
It is a part of you
This season is your life