I’m a caterpillar at first,
and I like to eat leaves.
When I grow up, I get to be free.
I get to go up in the sky,
where I can fly.
What am I?
I’m a caterpillar at first,
and I like to eat leaves.
When I grow up, I get to be free.
I get to go up in the sky,
where I can fly.
What am I?
Oh, to be a child again.
The ebb and flow of the days, of the months… alas of the years.
Soon it will be your turn, my precious one, to take on the burdens and the joys.
But for now, your life is soft and cuddly and protected.
Oh my child, my dear child.
If you could only remember these times,
Not only for the happenings, but also for the feelings,
And deliver them to your own dear little ones.
Then the days and the months and the years will flow anew,
Oh, to be a child again.
A haiku and two tankas:
1.
Red maple next to
shimmering water flames in
early October.
2.
Red cardinals, black
and white chickadees, brown and
tan sparrows, yellow
gold finches, house finches’ red
heads, eat seeds at my feeder.
3.
Red kidney, black, white
cannelli, tan garbanzos:
beans soak in a pot
like multi-colored pebbles
in the water at the beach.
The loss is like someone
Ripping your heart from your chest
And crushing it in front of you.
In a matter of moments,
Everything is heavy.
Your legs are weak,
And you can’t move your arms.
Some words try to escape,
But nothing comes out.
The only thing escaping
Is the salty liquid that’s pouring from your eyes.
The signals from your mind
Tell you to brush away your tears.
But you let them fall.
You let your face turn red with dejection.
Your head fills with memories,
You’re remembering…
What you did and didn’t do with them.
What you should’ve done, or shouldn’t have done.
It all blends together.
And you realize
Everything is quiet.
The silence consumes you
And you feel calm.
It’s not all so loud anymore.
Your mind has gone empty.
Behind sniffles,
You hear the silence.
Nothing can be said or done to make things better.
There’s no changing what happened.
The only thing that’s playing as relief
Is the silence.
The car ride to the hospital we all know,
We know there’s nothing to be said.
The silence consumes us,
And we’re left to think.
What will be different now that he’s gone?
How much will his passing truly affect us?
What happens now?
The family fills the room,
Gathering around the lifeless shell of a person,
Who used to be your father.
The Silence is loud.
No one dares to break it.
Later that week,
“I’m sorry for your loss”
Fills the funeral room,
But it doesn’t make it better.
Silence would be better,
Much better than this.
The generalized apologies,
Lack personality,
It lacks true empathy,
Frankly,
It feels insincere.
It would be so much better if everyone
Stopped talking,
Stopped trying
To make things better.
Stopped everything,
And embraced the silence.
Silence is peaceful,
And never awkward.
Silence is personable,
It speaks more than you think.
Silence is pleasant,
Relaxing and
Far,
Far from the noise of the world.
The noise is obnoxious,
Stress inducing,
Loud.
It’s distracting,
And irritating.
It keeps you from staying focused and on task.
Silence is better.
The silence swallows you whole,
Allowing you to reminisce on the world
Your life,
Your actions,
Everything that led up to this moment.
It’s all because of the silence,
There’s no judgment in silence,
No fake apologies,
No pretending to care,
Just peace and quiet
That is why
Sometimes silence is better
October’s Hunter’s Moon
shone midnight bright
through out windows.
She woke me with the call:
Come out of doors.
Feel the moist air on your skin,
the damp earth beneath your feet.
I followed, witnessed her shining
arc towards the western horizon.
Give me the cooling night sky in all its beauty.
Give me the pretty fireflies that light up the night.
Give me the grass that is covered in dew.
Give me the chance to look up in the night sky and see the stars.
Give me the sun with all of it’s heat to warm me up.
Give me the evening when all goes quiet to watch the sunset fall.
Butterflies flutter
and dance harmoniously
as one in the wind.