poetry

missing Home

I am
Home.
amongst the forest of
our childhood.
sitting at the base of the tree
at the base of our hill,
inhaling
the
past and present
brings me whole
again.

My sons charge
slipping on the dry, barren slate bed
defending our mountain
slashing at predators,
intruders
with their
practical sword-walking sticks.
their laughter rises
with the trees
mingling, mixing,
cunningly
deceiving my perception,
as to whether the
happiness ringing out is
theirs
or ours
absorbed, preserved
from decades
gone by.

gathering My soldiers,
and commanding
true freedom
awaits
at the top of the Mountain,
we rush the hill.

steepness soon stifles
bravery,
and encouragement
a necessity.
the same roots
we used to lunge for,
they do.
the same slate crevasse
we overcame,
they maneuver around.
the same encouragement
whispered
to usher this little sister,
she gives to them.

as hard, burnt umber ground
succumbs
to green moss
and lush ferns,
we stand
firm, at the summit.
silence except for
breaths.
this was our happiness.
no pain, no worries, no fear,
no anger.
just us and woods.
Connected.

the forest’s constancy
provides hope,
proof
of brotherly love
in silent challenging
escapades.
Surveying the treetops,
and the boy’s proud smiles,
my heart throbs,
aches,
muscling
the loneliness
of the forest
into my heart.

For nothing
can
relinquish
the crushing
sensation
of truly missing your
Home.

September 22, 2017 0

Elusory

Elusory

My Love.
a term of endearment
for the common
and
uncommon.
A notion, whim
claimed to be held
by many
but
understood by too few.
an overused declaration
which embodies
my eternal devotion
to you.

My Love,
resides in your gaze sensed
across the room.
the warmth emanating
from your bright, loving eyes
gives me peace
when feeling the most
chaotic.
I look to you,
and
your glance
feeds my embattled mind,
reminding me that
I
am not alone.

My Love,
blossoms with each instant
you teach our sons to
be
men.
gently, respectfully guiding them
to be aware,
kind.
your fatherly education
fills my glaring
motherly gaps

and allows me perspective
into the quieter, subtler world of
discipline.
our little men respond
with awe,
an awe reserved only
for daddy.

My Love,
is nothing less than
trust.
as a flower awaits the knowing
sustenance
of the morning sun,
I turn to you
for my survival,
protection,
passion.
You are my light,
the hope
of bright days and
starry nights
and a boundless future,
for we
manifest an unwavering
force.

And as I lovingly
draw you to my
breast,
I breathe in your
vitality
and spirit.
secure in our place in
this world
together,
I exhale relief
in the uncommonness
of
our Love.

July 21, 2017 0

Standing at the brick edifice,
my skin prickles with
anticipation, nausea, joy,
Fear.
Nose breathes deep in,
Mouth forces air out.
feeling stiff,
my chin stretches
to the brilliant blue
early summer sky,
and my thoughts
Escape.

Please, to whomever available,
Don’t let anyone
Break a leg.
or fall down a crevice,
or get eaten by
an anaconda.

May we all have
lazy early mornings,
in PJs
with cartoons,
and days on days
where stopping
laughing
is the hardest
feat.

Give me sense,
to give them freedom,
to be kids.
allow myself to
slack
on math and reading,
Just a tad,
and breathe in their vibrant,
Boundless curiosity.

Tell those boys,
any bickering, any tattle-telling,
any smack,
will find them in Jail,
a scary one!
And remind their hearts
that along with the annoyance,
brotherly love is
Fairer
than
Loneliness.

Provide them time,
to envelope themselves in boredom
and yearn
for the structure
and wonder
of school.

Let my tired voice
rest,
silencing the desire to order
them here to
there.
Give me strength
to enjoy my kids,
to loosen up,
take a joke as a
joke,
and not worry about
where we should
be.

Keep me from
Wine;
especially when whining and frustration,
isolates me into
Solitude.
those notions will
pass.
Besides,
summer defines
friends banding Together,
awash in colorful
Mojitos.

Force me,
to carve time
for myself
to gain the clarity needed
for their and my
survival.

And as the final bell tolls
and the shrill squeals of summer
resonate through the school grounds,
Please,
let my thoughts remain
Mine.
never allow negativity to project
on my family,
nor allow the boys to notice,
that sometimes
Mommy feels this way.

Mom-dern Vignettes

hopefully hilarious life outtakes and mom fails

Tag

missing Home

Elusory

Summer’s Invocation