This Moment

Every word seems empty. 

No matter how hard I try to articulate this place, I fall short. 

I’m grasping for something. 

I know it. 

My heart is too full, or is it too empty? 

I’ll just let the string quartet play.

Fractal Dreams

Our dreams are not linear.

We live terrible lives in the dark of night.

As the brakes screech over and over. I see you sitting next to me.

As the glass breaks over and over. I hear you telling me goodbye.

These soft sheets yield dark lives in the terrible of night.

Golden honey sticks and butterfly wings.

Fractals of the truth.

Another knife digs into my abdomen. I hear you whisper goodbye.

Another tube goes down my throat. I see you sitting next to me.

Just a peak of light slowly creeps into the muscles of my mind.

As I begin to wake,

the wings flap one last time.

 

 

Remembering Neverland

My childhood was spent in a house in the mountains,

Second exit to the right and straight up the winding, dirt road.

I can still smell the poppies and pine trees.

I can still see the glimmers of mica catching the sun in the flower beds.

I would hug the trees as if they were my friends and drink the air as if it were my favorite tea.

It was an adventure.

I sometimes wonder if my grandfather’s laugh still permeates the halls,

and if the smell of a thousand Christmas mornings emanate from its walls.

I never got to say goodbye.

I suppose saying goodbye would mean to go away and forget,

and I can never forget.

 

 

January 29, 2017 (Dream Baby)

Sometimes I think about you. 

Sometimes I wonder what you would look and sound like. 

Sometimes I wonder if we would have named you Violet or Finn once we saw you.  

I wonder. 

I know I’ll never see you. 

I know I’ll never know. 

I know you live somewhere with the rest of my dreams now, in a place I’ll never get to go.  

Sandy Hook

I hope you know you’re not forgotten. 

You live in my heart every day. 

I still cry tears for you and your mothers. 

I think of you as I watch my son grow. 

I think of you. 

I think of you when I smile at a stranger. 

I think of you when I listen intently for cries of help. 

I think of you as I keep my eyes and heart open. 

You are not forgotten. 

Waiting for News

I still hold my breath when I hear the phone ring before 8 a.m. 

My heart stops. 

Every call in the middle of the night is a heartbreaking one. 

I poise myself for bad news. 

I ready my heart for loss.  

Like a dog, the ring always illicits the same response.