Hammock Dream

In a hammock side by side,
Head to toe, toe to head
Watching you watching me.
Speaking of hopes, dreams, you.

Touching your foot, ankle, calf.
Your soft, sheathed strength beneath my hand.
You ask a question. I smile: "no".
It doesn't matter where we go.

Anniversary

My dad died a year ago yesterday. Thinking it would weigh hardest on my mother, I made plans to spend my day with her...you know, to help her through it. But she was having none of it. She spent her day busy with her normal activities and then when she came home she went to her room, turned out the lights and laid on my father's side of their bed. I went in and spoke with her for a few minutes until she made it clear that it was time for me to leave. She spent her time that evening with her beloved, shedding tears, talking to him, dreaming of them together, waking and remembering. I was not necessary or wanted.

So I went out with a friend. But after that was over and I was driving home I felt the weight of my father's loss pressing on my soul. So I went home, turned out the lights and like my mother, talked to my dad. And later, when I fell asleep I dreamed of both of them with me, laughing.

I don't believe you lose your loved ones when they die - they just move. As one day we will too.

Surprised

I was surprised by beauty again, today.
Though I did not see you,
nor did I feel the press and warmth of your hand.
You are so very far away.

But the beauty in your voice
and the grace of your spirit
surprised me anew.

I'm not sure why you hold my gaze so.
Except that in a life of tumult and travail,
where no one is certain and nothing lasts,
you seem truer, more constant.

You shine brighter,
piercing the darkness with your spirit.
And surprising me again and again.

I am grateful that here and now I
know you and am known by you.
And in the knowing can be surprised.
And in being surprised, find joy.

Known and Knowing

For my friend.

It is a strange thing to know a person

and stranger still to be known.

Undressing our fears and faltering hopes.

Admitting weakness and selfish intent.

Stripping away all artifice,

all the perfumed unguents with which
we disguise our souls.

To reach out across the chasms that separate us.

Alone in our mountain redoubts, safely dead.

To touch, to grasp, to cling

For to slip is to fall and in falling we are lost.