MY GENTLE GENIE

You are my secret love
like a stone in my pocket
I take you out to see your beauty
Sometimes at night
I feel quickly to see if you're still there

Always on my lips and in my heart
you live steady and silent
like the smooth caress of a worry stone
Your touch is cool
reminding me to breathe

You can soothe me
the invisible touch is our secret
we walk hand in hand
My gentle genie
and I am ready to dream again

BEAUTY AND DEATH

The desert was shockingly cold.  The wind scraped at my face as I propped myself up and rested my elbows on the back of the pickup truck.  The camera lens was nearly frozen shut. Rocks everywhere covered in a light blue frosting of snow.  The only glimmer of warmth was a fleeting orange gap in the slowly dissolving clouds.  The shutter made a crisp sound as I took the last photo. The day ended and I thought of you.  I am back inside the truck now and we continue our trip home.

More photos of the desert

DEVOURED

The air was heavy giving birth to your memory
A hackneyed hope, a seminal sign, a righteous rebellion.

Born anew a brilliant beggar reaching to inhale

I wait to soak in their bloated beams 

Yet in the end 

I am deliciously

dependably

devoured.

KNOWING PICASSO

Today I was at our lake, Kristy.  My new friend Cindy and I were walking with Jack and talking about you.  I told her stories about our trips to the lake.  How you ran while I rode the bike.  How you pushed me up the hill when I finally said I had to get off the bike to walk.  I told her stories about you and Clas, your boyfriend.  How when he was not feeling very strong you would take him on short walks to the lake and take me along for good measure.  Of course Jack came along as well.

I was smiling when I got home and realized Cindy has never met you. All she knows about you lives in my memory. But through my memories you have come alive. You have become a real person to her.  She asks questions about you and you come alive in all your glory. And this is the truth of it, even though I have never met Shakespeare, Lincoln, Picasso or even Amy Tan I feel as if I know them.

During these long walks I have also met Cindy's mother.  I can feel her mother's love as Cindy talks about her.  I too can see her through Cindy's eyes. Even though Cindy's mother is no longer alive.  Cindy and I have both shared our loves with each other and in so doing have received comfort in the reliving.  For you are alive in these moments.  It is as if you have never left me.  There is a gentle comfort in talking about you, my darling. There is so much to tell.

Yes.  In these moments it is as if you have never left. And someone whom you have never met knows you and carries your memory with them.

THE SHAMAN'S CIRCLE

A year ago I wrote to a Pueblo Shaman about you.

I asked the Shaman

why you died

He said you went

so another could enter

my life, my love

I am waiting with tears

with outstretched hands

I open my heart

expanding the circle

Ever present and changing

Just how many are needed?

When is the circle full?

It is ever turning,

ever mine

LINT

Another cold morning and you sit on my throat

you see my breath as I hide in my coat

Last night's dreams are like lint in my pocket

Soft and ghostly as the image in my locket

Dreary days gray and blue slip between sighs

soon another birthday comes and another milestone dies

In my dream you smiled your love as wide as the sky

I sheltered you in my arms while asking you, "Why?"

In your eyes, in your eyes, the sweetness of youth

tempered only by cries of persistence and truth

Though today I am cold in my pocket I find

love conquering death in my heart and my mind

UNTIL WE DIE

Where I do all of my thinking.

TWO PARTS

On my last trip to New Mexico the sun split the rain

clouds and a rainbow formed.

While I was running this morning these thoughts came to me. My love for you is like two parts of one puzzle. If I had not loved I could not have felt your loss so cruelly. If I had not mourned I could not have recognized your love so completely. I am sharing this journey with you.

For you

my heart did sing.

For you

my heart did die.

For you

my heart will live.

For you

my heart cries why.

Thank you

LITANY

Love is stronger than death she said

as I reached to find her near

a breath, a look, a yearning smile

are but mirrors from the dead

THE SHELTERING TREES

Yesterday I went to see the memorial that was made for your grave site. It includes a beautiful photograph of you in porcelain and part of a poem you once wrote. I then wrote this for you.

The day is tiring and long

I'm going to sit here and rest

I'll stroke your memory in song

and hold it to my chest

It's raining outside I said

and our inner worlds did meet

with tiny hands of lead

driving a dreary beat

I stood again on the ground

where you will soon be laid

and thought about the sound

our laughing voices made

I'm falling to my knees

and the mist and you are one

just under the sheltering trees

where the rain is never done

"Shared pain is no longer paralyzing but mobilizing." Henri Nouwen