He didn’t say it.
Not on the day
or the day after, when he used to remember.
No more embers. glowing.
Not hanging on the threads anymore, I just realized.
How strange when forever
truly dies.
poem- missed August 25, 2018
Your eyes glow
when you see me across the room.
It’s been a long time.
You’re still wearing your heart
on your arm.
Once again,
I feel appreciation for your admiration,
awkward it’s still unrequited.
Oh, the confusion of my youthful charms.
Thank you, for
reminding me
so sweetly
who I used to be.
poem-thinking of you September 3, 2017
Today, I’m thinking of you,
new friend, met for a weekend,
those intense moments of stretching
ourselves into expectation,
birthing pains.
I find your words here,
between the pages,
and hear the anguish of your loss.
I remember our late night conversation,
the smile you fought for as you shared.
I’m thinking of you,
and wishing you lightness,
today.
quote- home May 21, 2017
“Wherever you have friends, that’s your country.
Wherever you receive love, that’s your home.”
Tibetan proverb quoted by the Dalai Lama in The Book of Joy (I highly recommend this book!)
This quote brilliantly summarizes my experience of life with and as an exchange student. Half your heart has moved to a new location.
poem- beautiful September 29, 2016
Astonished eyes
Gushing mouths
They say, “You’re so beautiful.”
Compliments deserve courtesy
“Thank you.”
Warm smile.
Their words are bees,
around a flower.
Droning pleasantries.
You are the only one
who needs to say the line,
and you
do not.
What is beauty?
What fear lies beneath refusal
to see it?
What interpretation of honesty
forces you to decline
to observe it?
poem-serendipity March 12, 2016
Old friend synchronicity
Visiting one,
Another arrives out of the blue.
After forty years,
there are sympathetic vibrations
that draw us together:
joyful serendipity.
poem-promise September 29, 2015
Those childish promises
made with fervent belief
prove the power of intention:
Fealty sworn with hooked pinkies
in confident conviction.
poem- touched August 24, 2015
One finger tracing
One hand resting
Two hands kneading
Two arms embracing
Four lips brushing
I’m touched
Poem- Parts May 24, 2015
I’m part English, part Welsh, part Prussian, part French
Diluted by experiences of generations born the ‘right’ colour.
Not even ‘No Irish need apply’ to tarnish their immigrant dream:
Canada, land of opportunity for the stalwart farming types.
Though great-grandpa was an accountant and failed at farming.
.
So who am I to comment on anyone else’s parts?
. My great-niece: part African
. My nephew: part First Nations
are just family. Or
Those friends from here and there whose colour
Was not as important as their character
Whose home culture was a matter of curiosity
Never animousity. We were
White kids convulsing over that time at the bar
When the guy climbed into the back of Khalid’s car
convinced he was a taxi driver,
And we never considered that maybe parts of his heart
Were incized by the stereotype he laughed off.
Because we didn’t waste time worrying about races or colours,
We were full of the wonder of all our parts racing together toward our futures.
.
.
This was created as part of an assignment in my Education of Inclusion course. This week we’re looking at cultural inclusion and racisim. One of the videos we watched was about ‘hyphenated Canadians’. We were expected to comment on this, but I just don’t feel like I can say anything about what it might be like to feel caught between cultural identities, so this poem is my offering on the subject.
poem- box of stars December 18, 2014
I open
an innocuous box
to find a starry sky,
music for the spheres,
time travel.
I open
an innocuous box
to find sparkling stars
that make me smile
remembering.
.
.
.
and since the box contained the 25th Anniversary edition of The Interstellar Suite in Surround Sound (among many other lovely things), I should probably include a link to a 25 year old event that inspired a scene in Grace Awakening, shouldn’t I? (Thanks Arlene for that awesome sparkly sky paper!)
