Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Monday, May 23, 2016

No Boundaries


I savor the snapshots of our life,
a little boy's laughter
angelic and sweet.
We were two peas in a pod,
smiling as we welcomed the night,
books by the bedside,
your little finger curled
in the tangle of my hair,
as you pleaded for one more story.
I was your cheerleader
in games lost,
in dreams nurtured and sustained.
I wanted to see the world through
your eyes,
not mine.
You taught me lessons
in ordinary moments,
that gracefully were extraordinary.
You taught me that there is
no other option but 
the naked truth.
I should have known
that your world
would become larger
and that mine would be smaller,
that life would be complicated,
a new path
mapped with boundaries.
The storms that I endured 
would be kernels of wisdom 
to let go,
to step back,
to watch you stand on your own.

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Mom


There was a comfort
knowing that I could hear 
your voice,
melt into your arms,
watch the shadows cast
on your face
and know how to bring
light into your eyes.
There was comfort in loving,
in living,
in a shared meal,
an anecdote,
in silent moments.
There was comfort 
I no longer find,
the one I felt in your womb 
or your gentle hand
on my burning forehead 
when I was sick.
I have no church or synagogue
to find refuge in.
I seek the museums 
of the world
where we once walked 
together,
I walk alone.
In their splendor
I feel you like a gentle wind
beside me,
urging me to see the magnificence. 
The art fills my soul
with curiosity and wonder.
I find you there,
loving me,
giving me the will
to find the essence
in the beauty of this life.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Your beating Heart


The black bird carried a twig
to the nest,
the shimmering light reflected
over the lake.
Spring entered our home
and our subconscious,
yet I have not stopped 
to welcome the sounds of the 
earth awakening
dreamily stretching
like a ballerina executing 
a pirouette. 
I've been nourishing
and nurturing
those that I love.
I have been sadder 
than they can understand
and stronger than I can comprehend
I have been living in the past
more than in the moment,
feeling the helplessness
of how time floats through
my hands and my days.
Moments that we can't get more of,
days once wasted lost and gone.
I've been stretching my limbs,
my mind diluted.
the wind whispers in my ear,
"You are strong"
it says.
I scream,
"Have you not seen my tears,
heard my defeat,
felt the weakness of my wounds".
I run through the torrents of rain
listening to the uplifting guidance,
longing to hear
the sound of your beating heart..   

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

A piece of ourselves

 

The sun honey colored
 and brazen
gleamed through the door as he entered
clutching bouquets of flowers.
Daisies, Lillis,Ginger
wild and beautiful.
I reached out for one,
the thorns of the rose
pierced my skin,
reminding me that life
was not always this way,
soft and loud with beauty.
The flower guy
was away in a mountain cabin
 writing his first novel.
I smile 
understanding the struggle of
bleeding unto the page,
pouring our fears,
unveiling our truth,
weaving our words.
How softly we click on
the keys of our devices 
writing feverishly.
Our minds holding boulders,
in the trenches of our thoughts,
fearful to leave on the page
more of ourselves than 
we intended to.
I trim the flowers
on a slant,
place them in the 
green and white crystal vase.
I cut my words
into shattered pieces of myself,
I place them on the page,
exposed,
quickly I
erase and
start over. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Forgiveness


I forgave her for lying
and trying to steal my soul.
I forgave her for bringing storms
into my days,
uncertainty in my steps,
and darkness in my hours.
I forgave her,
the sister I never had,
the confidante of secrets.
I brought her in from the rain,
from a past,
embraced her brokenness
unaware of her bite.
She loved me,
betrayed me,
said it was her illness. 
She took my heart,
sliced it open
watched me bleed
as she stood motionless.
I saw her photograph
on the internet,
her eyes haunted,
a scar on her forehead,
a ghost of yesterday.
It was not her words attempting
to crawl back into the place
she ravaged.
It was not her pleading voice
on the answering machine.
I forgave her
to crawl out of the gutter
she placed us in.
I forgave her as I battled
drowning in the outgoing tide.
I forgave her 
to forgive myself.




This poem was inspired by my friend Aidan Donnelley Rowley's new book The Ramblers. One of the protagonist had a mother with bipolar disorder. There was someone close in my life that was bipolar and ended up hurting me while claiming her love. She was family and it was hard. Aidan's book is beautifully written. You can find it here http://ivyleagueinsecurities.com/. It is so many things more than this, and it's about the questions of life and the struggles that we go through only to be end up better and wiser because of the journey. I recommend The Ramblers and I hope you pick up a copy today.

Thursday, February 4, 2016

Retrieved


The sound familiar 
as it echoes through
the house.
The couch sighs
the way it did when 
she jumped off
to chase a squirrel 
in the yard
or follow me
when I walked away.
The memory recovered
the way she retrieved sticks
on autumn days.
Her wet nose,
red collar,
unbridled joy,
shaking the rain
as she swayed.
She faintly smelled like trees,
she wagged her tail
while words of poetry 
danced on the page.
Outside the window,
leaves are scattered,
the homeless cat can
no longer tell her tales
of the birds she hunts
and duck eggs left unattended
for moments at a time.
She daydreamed,
we daydreamed,
side by side.