Tag Archives: life

December’s Eve

This poem was written by a dear friend who decided our ideas were worthy of poetry. This is our organic, spontaneous, joyful collaboration. It spilled out of our connection, and she caught all the gems, arranging them with her time, effort, and energy, creating what you see below.

We had been talking & texting about life – the big existential kind of talking about life – and then a few weeks later she gave me a book, one of the most beautiful gifts I’ve received: Call Us What We Carry, a collection of poems by Amanda Gorman. When I opened the front cover I saw them – all of our words, and some new ones. She had collected our thoughts and organized them in verse. The beautiful fine-point black felt-tip ink of our words, written in her own hand, is stamped in my memory. My eyes filled up with tears when I realized what I was reading.

Who’s lucky enough to receive a gift such as this – this book, this poem – this friend?

December’s Eve

Instinct,
motivation,
necessity,
purpose,
meaning,
fulfillment,
nature,
humanity,
what was,
what is,
what’s to come,
what we wish for,
what we hope for,
what we wished for,
what we hoped for,
what we forgive,
what we allow,
what we choose,
what chooses us…

All
these
moments,
one after the other…

What do we love,
What do we love,
What do we love?

Photo by Anata Nsg on Pexels.com

An All-Saints Kind of Gratitude

I look back through Novemember’s
just-hanging-on leaves, the negative space
of our promises to drive through Malabar’s
winding road, taking in October’s blasts of color.
The weeks have whipped by, the leaves ignoring my
requests to stay, to never fall away, and my melancholy
drips bitter without the sweet.

Then I see our love’s first fruits hanging
on you, lying on you like so many apples,
our children’s morning sweetness, their bodies’
hard softness, wild hair, pokey elbows,
squishy bellies and meaty feet.  They grow
unconditionally from our branches, buds,
and blossoms.  They grow their own stems and leaves
and seeds and develop their own autumn flavors.

We drop away when we are ripe

thankful for what we are

what we have

and what we miss.