The Mother

And so I call my mother
to thank her for
the strength

she gave to me, and also
perhaps especially,
for the joy, because this life

is just a small opening,
a momentary window,
and though

there are shadows
in the dark,
she gave me my hands,

with which to draw back
the curtains
and open eyes to see

the white snow fall
even as this night sky
lights up with morning.

Flat Planet

Hark the herald angels
sing the red line boldly,
this is not my story.
This is not our story.

He’ll tell you that the planet’s flat,
negligent explorer,
pockets lined with glory
trumpeting his glory,

full steam shipping down the line
toward the edge of reason,
he’s always keeping score, we
the people, brace for war,

lost for words but not conviction
when nothing left is sacred,
march right or you be wary,
things just might get scary,

so trade this fear for action,
and batten down the hatches,
lean against the oar,
let’s make love the allegory,
make love the allegory.

Be the Love

When the dust gathers,
sweep the floor,
when the soil dries,
water the plants,
when mouths are hungry,
bake the bread,
when fear rises up,
tuck in the children,
when you need to be heard,
listen,
when you need to know,
ask the question,
when it gets dirty,
wash the dishes,
when it gets dark,
throw back the curtains,
when nighttime falls,
greet the day,
if you cannot comprehend,
speak only the truth,
if the door closes,
open your palms,
if you lose your way,
walk the path,
if it is love you seek,
be the love.

Invitation

I would like to invite you into every place
I knew once

as a child, like songs, with lyrics too,
that lived inside

the nighttime chirp of crickets, or to stand at the edge
of the world,

our feet stained orange from sunset and the scales
of fishes,

we’d walk beneath the constellations
and later

draw them on our pillows so that our first two
fingers, lovers,

could sleep beneath. I want to find the secret
places again,

between the stones, and take you there.
The doorway

is partway open, an invitation,
my heart,

let’s go.