The Poetry Marathon

In this meditation,
you simply take slow steps,
one foot in front of another
and, if you want,
you can think words
with each step.
One step: love.
Another step: peace.
Or… .
One step: hope.
Another step: joy.
Or you can think of names.
One step: Patti.
Another step: Becky.
Sending out energy —
healing loving hopeful energy –
into the universe
for the people you love.

I wish for a time capsule –
something I could open and see
you and you and you and you
— and you! –
All those I have lost.

I would gather you all around me
in some sort of Celestial pub
and we would raise glasses,
shout out cheers,
sing songs and tell tales
of the days and the loves
of long, long ago.

We shall see each other again, she said,
but don’t come now.
The truth is, she said,
I don’t want you to remember me this way:
frail and sad, slipping away.
Dying.
Instead, how about this?
How about you go to the ocean and
walk through the waves crying
while beautiful black shells wash up at your feet and
sea gulls scream into the winds
above you.
You can take carnations and fling them into the surf
and you can sing a song of your making
that will float
all the way from California to Indiana
to my waiting ears and
I will send you snowflakes and baby robins and oak leaves
and everything wonderful
that I can offer from my world
and you can send me
coyote songs and sun rises and mountains
and everything wonderful
from your world and
all these infinite joys will mix together
into a jeweled labyrinth
of our friendship and
then of course
one day
we shall see each other again
but not now, not now.
Just not now.

*title is from the last line of the book, Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh

On one of our last visits,
I pointed to the sky and said,
“oh, mom, look! —
look at that bird flying above us!”
and she said, “what I see is
a long, long line of energy.”
And her world was different and good.

She was a realist:
she often said she was demented. She said one time,
“if we sound scattered,
it is because we are.”
And her world was different and good.

She only forgot me once.
Riding in the car, she asked my name.
A moment of shock and then I said, “Dee. My name is Dee.”
And she said, “oh, that’s my daughter’s name.”
Cheerful, happy.
And then she remembered I was her daughter and she
rejoiced. And we both celebrated.
And her world was different and good.

Sometimes I miss my time in that world —
all present tense, joyful,
loving, uncomplicated.
Birds, roses, the sounds of tambourines and piano,
voices lifted in song drifting to the memory care patio.
The water splashing in the fountain next to us.
True.
Together.
Timeless.
Her world: different and good.

In the summer, we drink iced coffee
when it is still 90 degrees before dawn.
We study the forecast and plan our day:
walk the dogs by 5:30 a.m., complete errands early.
Get home safe.

I worry constantly about the power grid.
If it fails, do we survive 120 degrees with no AC?
And I obsess about drought
scorching native plants, silencing the birds.
We are running out of water.

The sun beats down on us and
my eyes reflect the damage.
My skin is brown and dry.
All day I crave ice cream and
the waves of the ocean.
All day I remember
deep forests and
what it felt like
to walk in the rain.

I am here alone and
it is twilight –
shadows creep up the walls
to meet me and
clouds pass above me
in the sky.

This, perhaps, is where
I was meant to be:
yesterday, today, tomorrow.
This, perhaps, is where
the end begins.

Now I’ve given it all away —
the things, the hopes, the dreams —
and I am light and untethered.
I am uncommitted and free.
I am, in fact, unspoken for.

Now I take my wings and
I affix them on my back and
I unfurl them and
the feathers surround me and
I arch those wings and
begin to beat in rhythm
until I feel the lift
and am alight —

He was the most gentle of souls —
playing his violin for the kittens at the shelter
so they would not be lonely.

On that night, he was just walking home,
carrying an iced tea for his brother
and, yes, he was singing and dancing
in his own special way.

For this, the police were called.
For this, the police put him in a chokehold.
For this, the paramedics injected him with a sedative.
For this, Elijah was killed.

I was just going home
I’m just different
I’m an introvert
That’s all

Today we are all Elijah.
We are all different.
We are all gentle souls.
In this time, right now,
that is an enormous thing.

What I love most about Narnia
is how easy it is to get there —
the simple process of stepping
through the wardrobe and landing
in a place of magic.

When I visit Narnia,
I will meet the faun and magicians
and the amazing lion named Aslan.
When I visit Narnia, I will crunch across the snow,
as it is always winter there,
and drink Turkish delights.

When I visit Narnia,
I will have tea with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver
and I will steer clear of the wolves and the witches
and perhaps I will stay forever
in this magical world not just a while
but forever.

Oh, let’s just leap and hop in the moonshadow.
Let’s shout to the heavens about joy and hope
while we spin and weave and bobble
under the starry skies.

See, here is my hand, take it –
See, here is my song, sing it –
See, here is my dance, dance it –

Now I will see your hand and take it —
Now I will know your song and sing it —
Now I will watch your dance and dance it —

Together we will embrace the dark night
as we drain our cups of falling stars
and, finally refreshed, we skip and gallop through
the forgotten paths of the Milky Way.

Remember the firefly
that began to zip and zoom
just below the treeline that day?

You had the strange idea to follow it.
And then I could feel the heat of your body
as our insect guide led us through the woods.

Soon we were at an enchanted cottage with a garden.
A sparkling chandelier hung from a tree branch and below
was a table set with bowls of porridge and a bottle of Chardonnay.

We toasted each other with our wine glasses and began to feast until
at last neither of us could mask the feeling of lethargy
and we curled up together in that magical world,
falling finally and blissfully into a sweet and gentle sleep.