Dust is sparked:
becomes a miracle
of tears and laughter,
a long journey back
to dust.
poem- balance October 28, 2015
Life is balanced
on a pinpoint.
Home, food, health, connections, work, meaning
sway precariously.
If one is pulled,
all is impacted:
Rocks and
Tips.
.
.
.
I’m thinking today of an extended family member who was in a serious car accident recently. One moment, all is well, the next some guy isn’t watching the road, jumps a meridian, and you’re in emergency. If you’re sole support, and you’re off work for a year of recovery, how does that impact everyone around you?
poem- I’ll remember October 7, 2015
There’s a string around my finger.
The groceries are bought.
The mail is collected.
The birthday cards are mailed.
The appointments are made.
The kids are picked up.
Nothing’s forgotten.
There’s a string ’round my finger
for remembering you.
poem- sliced 2 October 2, 2015
I was numb,
but I felt the gentle line you drew
across my skin, blade slicing deep.
You stretched me open,
revealed my patched bones,
unscrewed the metal holding me together.
Oh, you sewed me back together,
taped over the black sutures,
and here I lie, propped up against realities,
hoping for the best.
.
.
.
It sounds so lovely and metaphorical, but it’s literal. 🙂 Successful surgery this week to remove the plates and screws that repaired my broken fibula last January. The screws were working out on their own and causing a fair bit of pain. Looking forward to returning to regular, pain-free mobility very soon!
poem-vampire August 25, 2015
I hadn’t noticed before, but you’re a vampire.
You charm people, but when they get close to you
you suck the life out of them.
A succubus eating through relationships,
and now you’re clinging to that child
as a tool to make that old man stay
while you drain him, too.
I’m glad some of them got away.
poem- Jenga January 9, 2015
Our lives are Jenga towers:
intricate stacks of circumstance
that in a moment can
collapse around us.
.
poem- hockey players November 23, 2014
One by one
the hockey players walked past
assorted young men in suits
older men in team jackets
family and friends trailing behind.
The Chicago Blackhawks lost to
the Vancouver Canucks tonight.
There was no celebration in the lobby
as they filed by.
Some people were excited,
but since I don’t watch hockey,
they didn’t impress me.
They were just well dressed young men,
less well dressed older men
and dejected friends and family,
hanging out in the hotel.
poem- were November 1, 2014
It was woven
like light
dappling between the leaves
of our maple tree,
your voice, soft in memory,
searching for the heart of me.
It was woven
like lithe
subtleties between the grease
of our maigre feast,
your voice, lost in murmurings
purging forth our history.
It was woven
like life
sampling between the griefs
of our marble stele
your voice, wafts in every
yearning it exhorts of me.
.
.
I may be stretching your vocabulary with this one! Here’s some help:
maigre- religious diet without the flesh or juice of animals
stele- pillar, marker, tombstone (pron. like STEEL-y)
poem-lost gift July 25, 2014
Family and friends
gather for funeral to
tell stories:
laughter
tears
admiration
appreciation.
I hope she knew
she touched this many.
that they’d have to
bring in extra chairs,
though she was a newcomer
to this community.
When cancer is found,
why not call everyone
to celebrate the life
while the body is there to hear?
Why not send her off for chemo
with these stories of love,
respect, and support?
Why wait to gather
when she’s not here
to receive the blessing?
.
.
.
Memorial today, packed house to celebrate Auntie Linda. I just kept wishing she’d been here to know how many lives she’d touched.
I was reminded of a send off my friend had for her husband when he was heading south for radiation, bone marrow transplant, etc. Relatives came from afar, friends packed the building. We sang, we told stories, we laughed, we sent him off with blessings for his young family, knowing in his heart how he’d inspired people. When he passed away a few months later, we gathered all again with sadder hearts, but that time together lifting him up has stayed with me as a very precious occasion to support a young family in a time of tragedy.
poem- blood February 5, 2014
She smells the metallic tang
iron
copper
inhales the essence
life
death
dreams the future
rock
paper
scissors
blood.
.
Shawn L. Bird 