that's mrs. mediocrity to you

the second poplar tree in the front yard is dying.

it lost its mate a few years back, and being the romantic that i am, when it started dying from the top down, i decided it must have a broken heart. ha. then again, perhaps i’m right.

i have to figure out what to do about it this year, how to afford to cut it down, if i can bear to cut it down, the hole it will leave in my view (and my heart) when it is gone. how much i will miss the sound of poplar leaves rustling through the darkest hours of long summer nights.

it will mark another ending, in this winter filled with endings i have not yet learned to process. all part of the same era, the same time-vine of hope. i planted those two poplars when i first started my garden. i planted my garden when i first started my marriage.

and now i am surrounded by empty spaces, dying graces, loaded places.

there is so much to say and nothing to be told.
so much to grieve and nothing real to bury.
so much to carry and nothing left to hold.

my truth is a dark burden, and in the silent hours of night, i sit by my window and watch those bare dead branches pierce the sky.

the gap its absence will leave on my horizon is too difficult to consider just now.

i’ll deal with it this summer.

. . .

there’s another tree in my front yard, a young river birch with its own painful story.

last summer, i actually thought about killing it. of course, i didn’t. i couldn’t. i wouldn’t.

after that, i thought about moving it, to somewhere out of sight from that same window.

i didn’t do that, either.

i decided, in the end, to watch it grow. it has three trunks. i have three children, three grandbabies. we all have roots here.

it doesn’t even begin to fill the sky yet, or close the hole in my horizon, but i’ve re-framed its significance in the window of my existence.

one day, it will offer shade to this tiny house still filled with love. in the fall, i’ll watch yellow leaves drop down through the night and think how often we all begin again. each morning, each month, each year.

the seasons have always marked my cadence.

i’m looking forward to the spring.

don’t let yourself be swallowed
by tomorrow’s grief

let the tongue of life
cradle you

now

here

in the silence
of present

this rocking boat
of emptiness

hollowed out home
of hope

will be your vessel

i got so stuck looking for the map
i forgot to wander

these hills and valleys of deliverance
knocking down signposts
and standing there
smirking
at my own confusion
in the same way you led me here
as if it mattered
as if i mattered
and the trees just keep breathing
their dark ragged breaths
as if dying and winter
are the same

: :

i built a red cairn
in a bowl of misfortune

balanced everything
just long enough
to understand

falling is a journey
of its own
and landing
is not
destination

keeps playing through my head and
i walk my way through
this melody of motion

stay busy stay busy stay busy
stop, drop, and roll
lay on the floor crucifix-style
stare at the sky/ceiling/sky
a bit longer

strangely, the race feels over. life has slowed to its essence:
breathe and begin, breathe and begin.
the floor, the ground, the hollowed out place where a heart used to be,
these are my constant companions, and i adore them for their loyalty.

(just as i adore the beautiful souls who stand beside me through my trial)

circles circling and life living and hearts bleeding/breaking/beating
just as they always have.

last night, in a dream, i heard rapping on my window.
hard, insistent,
and i thought it was you.
or the moon.

it doesn’t matter which, really.
the sky was filled with clouds
and lost coyote screams

and i felt no fear,
nor did i part
the thin white curtain.

for you have no face and i, no mystery.

just this silence
filling cracks
with bits of blue.

integrity is honesty in words and actions

damn the game-playing,
word-changing,
hide-and-seek
gladiators

: :

i’ll take the bird singing joy
surprised by each sunrise

the child’s new word
wrapped in giggle and smile

i’ll take the plate washed with love
to complete a good meal

and the call in the night
to remember what’s real

i’ll be quiet and staid
in a world filled with pretense

wrinkled and worn
in the fountain of youth

i’ll walk steps on the path
my own feet have created

humble-quiet and found
through dark forests of pain

: :

i will listen with love
and be your best mirror

shining back your lost song
from a field
sown with grace

is the seed
you never saw

dropped by bird or breeze or
gnarled fingers

holding silent
in
the cold of dark
the dark of cold
the carapace
of old

tend the bloom
discard
decay

worship petal
over promise

the grey kitchen
sings in whispers
to the rainbow
of brevity

each flower is merely
the camouflage of purpose:

grow
continue
circle-cycle
rest in soil

the light was always
your beginning

…

of cold

spinning deep down orders
to watch and warble and

listen

the way you stand there, alone, in a memory
of sanctitude

as if
as if

as is

forgiveness is the penny with no shine
worth next to nothing ’til you save it up
build a bright copper mountain
watch sleet coat the north

with patina

so much patience, required
this bold gift of living

inhale

over there, the beast just keeps rising
sun-gold and heat brittle branches
painting red a beginner’s horizon

luck is the path,
compass forbidden

embark, unmoored

stand frozen,
arrested

these clouds all smell
of winter

exhale

…

and i carried silence

limbs crashed as everyone watched
gladiator gold and cold blue judgment

but it tell you, i buried the seeds.

tending was a way of life
and you left me to it
watering
feeding
trimming fat
from bone

it’s not the burnished quiet
that destroys me

it’s the wind echo
petrified singing

cracking hope clear through
those
ring-counted hard-growth years

the sunset stays the same
holding space for another

tomorrow.

all i want is the gift
of a bare sapling
backlit
horizon

…

release the girl you buried in sand
the broken mug you carried in hand
release the sun you held like rain
the bitter voice that slipped your name
release the carry
the call
the fall
release the heartbreak
of us all

release the truth you thought you knew
release the lies that no one threw
release the center
raw and runny
release the words that can’t be funny
release the cry
the sigh
the tarry
release the rhyme
the time
the merry

release the weight that broke your bones
release the scars carved from stone
release the hate
the love
the fear
release the flaws
that brought you here

…

the world is on fire

stop what you’re doing
no
stop

nothing is fair and the sky is lit
broken

stop
listening
smiling dancing and buying
stop building hiding
breathing
complaining

stop spinning

stop spilling

stop drilling
for rain

i’m an ocean of echo
on the tilt-shift of dragon

i am gold and philosophy
still and bespoken

i am school with no student
blinded by billow

i’m the cloud of refrain
in a field of forgotten

stop