10 sept 2004

Soldiers going back overseas.
They've been over before--thus the back--
At the beginning of the war,
But they've been home a year,
And it's time to return.

Mothers and wives
And families fear
A knock at the door.
They fear the bad news--
The worst that might come.

One woman has the hardest time at night.
She lives in the country.
Her dogs bark at any passing car.
So when she hears her dogs,
She fears.
She can't fall asleep at night.
When sleep happens to grace her,
It's not smooth and doesn't soothe.

7 aug 2004

399 killed
in Paraguay
owners of
a supermarket
ordered their
doors locked
when a
fire broke
out because
they did
not want
people leaving
the store
without paying

man slaughter
child and
woman and
man slaughter
399 slaughtered

28 july 2004

You,
before I was born,
rested your head
on my mother's chest.

She
held you in her arms
and your body
rested atop her pregnant bump of me.

You
were young--
less than seven months
and I
was yet to breathe
the air of your world.

You and I,
we must have,
must have,
known each other
before our births.

Me and you.

Who will be the first
to stop breathing the air of our world?

28 july 2004

You exist in dreams,
My nighttime visions.
And though I don't
See you in daylight,
I cannot shake
You from my thoughts.
You remain perched
In my head.
And everytime I
Look up I
Feel you,
Want to see you,
But know I can't.
I can't until sleep
Closes my eyes,
Slows my heart,
Deepens my breath.
There you'll be
Looking at me.

(Or am I just looking at you?)

20 nov 2003

fossils are nothing
but stone traps.

snatched,
a leaf
or shell
sticks to soft rock's surface.

slated on forever.

2 may 2005

hands raised
elbows slighly bent
head back
eyes shut but looking skyward
deep intake of air through nose
and then exhale like it's coming from the heels of your feet
toes in the mud--clasped around stones

wanting to run
but waiting
standing
waiting
almost-motionless
for a drop of rain

water to make
the mud wetter
wet to wash
the tears away

yes,
shut-eyed even
you've cried
always amazed
each time it happens

you had closed your lids to halt
the salty onslaught

you rubbed the tip
of your tongue
against the inside
of your bottom teeth
trying to find calm
in that motion

but neither tongue
nor lids can keep back
the cry that has to come

and so you wait

you wait for rain

when it falls
you can open your eyes

16 march 2005 (w/ a boost from alex caldiero)

Hold out your hands she said.
I stood there.
Hold your hands out she said.
There I stood.
She said hold out your hands.
I stood.
There she said.
Hold out.

19 feb 2005

lightning lock gaze
sudden shock to soul-center

but it doesn't
burn away quickly

it stays
resides
in the heart
ache
&
pain
till you
have it again

linked vision

21 jan 2005

My wet hair dampens the rock.
I'm in snowangel position
Without the snow
On my back.
My suit soaks into warm stone.
My arms fill with heat from the slab's contact.
Eyes close.
I see fuzzy red--
The inside of my lids plus the sun's shining.
I crack my toes,
Forcing my calves
To embrace more of the rock's warmth.
Turning prostrate,
I press one cheek
And then the next
To scrape against
The hot, rough texture.

28 nov 2004

when you lose someone,
how do you start taking pictures of who's left?

there will be a hole.

a space

a void

where that someone used to

be

that first picture
how hard
to stand
or sit
without the one
the one not there anymore

but that space
can serve as a substitute
reminding of the loss

yes, hurting
but also healing
as those left behind
hug each other round the hole.
wholeness again.

8 oct 2004

I hold the baby.
Her eyes open with surprise
When I touch my forehead to hers.
She burrows her head into the
Space between my shoulder and chest.
And we both gain comfort.

That locking secures us.
My feet stand,
But her natural act
Holds me up.

She edges out and looks at my face
Wanting more excitement or baby talk.
And so I lift her up above my head.
Again.
Again.
And then she squeals.
I smile.
I hold the baby.

the abundant life

There is a little branch that we got to go to a couple times in my last area when we (Sestra Tislenko i ya) were teaching Nastya. There are about 14 active members. The branch president, his wife, and their four kids make up about half of that branch. Sister Shelton, my MTC companion, told me that she was at their place one time and all the kids were just sitting at the table having cookies and milk for breakfast; everyone was so happy and Sister Shelton just wanted to stay there and soak in the Spirit of this beautiful family. So this is what I wrote:


elbows and glasses crowd the table
hands shove cookies into smiling mouths
fresh-from-the-cow-milk fills the glasses
and sloshes around a bit in the jostle

the clamoring calms
scratched-up arms and chipped glasses
seem to be the only present roughness
but even their edges are smooth

the smiles are warm
the eyes glow and shine with happiness
they hold a secret that aches to brighten the world

it's no secret, really, though

it's truth

and we can all come to know

it's not hidden away,
this truth,
this light,
this love

perhaps forgotten
or maybe even pushed away,

aside
but not

out of reach

we can all beam milk-moustache smiles
and eat cookies for breakfast

we can rub elbows with our brothers and sisters
as we sit side to side
at the thick, wood table

we can feel at home
be at home

find center

be at peace

we can know who we are
and feel pure love

turn
turn to the table
sit down
offer thanks
and partake

smile
and live the abundant life

call waiting

You left your coat.
You walked out the door.
I saw it an hour later,
Picked up the phone,
But didn't dial.

I put down the phone
And raised the fabric of you
Up to my nose.
I breathed you in,
Waiting for you to call.