I asked the unanswerable question and felt the weight of it between us We do not know we imagine some days we even hope What lies ahead only mystery
Survivor Guilt
I am grateful I'm not the one you're talking over defending the hurtful oblivious thing you said I am relieved I'm not the one waiting for your call, your text your definition of the relationship But I rest uneasy I'm not the one batting back tears wondering how much life I've wasted wanting you
End
It is the end of our beginning.
Winston Churchill
I shudder to think it This transformation is more than I know the heart can take. The end of me, of this, of us is here, and our death is the beginning
This Feeling
Surrender, necessary Give myself now to the unknown, unknowable Wait! I remember this feeling! Ten years old at the high dive's edge only one thing to do: leap
Today
Set every soul and story down including your own Let each of the world's cares sit idle untroubled by your efforts to right them If stitching together is needed other hands will do the mending Feel the weight slip from your shoulders The earth is strong enough to hold you
My Lover, the Poet
Have you met my lover, the poet? And by meeting, can you know her slow caress of words? Some verse, rehearsed familiar to both our tongues Some days I believe I know her by heart mistaken to think I know her heart Have you met my poet, the lover?
Sometimes my friends and I choose a word or phrase and then each write a piece to include it. Here, we chose the phrase “my lover, the poet.” In this piece I imagine myself as the poet about whom the speaker is writing.
Miracle Question
You wake tomorrow morning and the world, your world is exactly as you need it You are alive in ways amazing and once feared What then is this miracle this answer to unuttered prayer?
Wisdom
This is the way of wisdom: What was once unimaginable now the surest thing
Last Supper
The final plate rinsed and neatly stacked from this last supper together For years I planned prepared, served You ate I washed, dried put away You read Thank you for another beautiful feast, you said You raised a toast but not a finger
Clutch
It's time to slip behind the wheel again stretch fingers across smooth leather ride the rhythm of advancing gears and accelerate into the next great thing. Gas, clutch, shift But now, here: Objects in mirror are sadder than they appear.
This Verse 