Poems

Zen of Instruction
You say, “Hey, you know,
that makes a lot of good sense!”
I feel gratified.

I know how it feels to be overwhelmed by the darkness and to hide in the warmth of its claws. It can all be shifted in the moment…

This is the great unhappening. If a tree falls in the woods if no one is there to hear if your only child dies a mother unmothered. You sold the van. They are going to set your baby on fire.

Our emotions are raw Kept tightly wrapped We talk of friends, the weather Never, what if………… Waiting this time is like watching for a birth

My Gran was born Florence –Imagine a baby in the 1920s With such a serious name–Burdensome, so she went by another But we never forget…

I saw my father in the mirror. The eyes within the glass— The same shade as an Oak cascaded in moss— Are an uncanny reflection of his own.

Mid-way through a week of walking the vales and fells of the Lakes | My new friend Judy asks: | What do your parents do?

I hold the paper in my hand. My case worker is friendly, not callous or distant. I ask him to decode the letter I have received in the mail. I think it says what I hope it says…