in a search for faith
we forget humanity
in all its beauty
we judge; don’t reach out,
cast stones without confession
pit love against faith
flags fly in all camps
begging for new believers
each claiming the truth
what if we used hearts?
and arms and hugs and kisses?
would we be sinful?
here we lose our faith
in a connection-less void
we call religion
beliefs
Return
sunny skies return
for a barbecue birthday
mimosas and love
perfect city walk
through the perfect Denver ‘hood
gold gardens galore
kids with grandparents
treasuring these small moments
till the rain returns
What Makes a Marriage
The campground we paid $57 to reserve was covered in snow. Bruce texted me at 2:52 and said we had to cancel. I thought of six devastated girls and my Jordan National Forest upbringing. “Just drive down 285. Surely there’s something.” He reluctantly agreed to meet me in Buena Vista. At 8pm, we pulled into our non-campground, no-bathroom site and fixed Spanish dinner by 19:30. 😉 The next morning it rained/hailed for 3.5 hours, ending with a frightening lightning storm when I said, “Kids, get in the car! NOW!!” And I blessed the lord to let him drive…. Up the road and into a mud pit. He screamed, cried out, “Our brand new car!! Why did I do that?! Why did we come on this trip?!!” And I opened my door, stepped in 7 inches of mud, and walked 100 yards to a camp full of 4-wheel-drive fanatics who came with their tow line and Jeep Rubicon and pulled all 8 of us, Pilot and all, right out of that pit of hell. And he drove reverse for a quarter mile (something I could never do) and the hail melted and the rain stopped and that’s. What makes a marriage.
Weights and Measures
a half day of waste
for undeserving seniors
with enough credits
the choices they make
based on so few students’ needs
hurt everyone else
education’s weight
while in line we stand. and wait.
weigh in: their way out
can they hold their weight?
while the society waits
an old way to weigh?
let’s measure anew
let loose the weight we all bear
find another weigh
Corners
what you can’t see here
cornered by twilight sun-clouds
i hold in my heart
the rays sparkling
in near-invisible rain
quiet end to day
corner of my heart
sparkling in silver streaks
silver streets of home
A Visit from Charles Schwab
a day off of work
for three hours with students
plus!–small donation
refugees’ lives
summarized in two chapters,
questions that plague them
if they saw their day,
their actual student day,
they might learn something
instead, they murmur
over plot complexities
and students’ English
they might realize,
when to mansions they return,
the true complex plot:
they can’t give answers
to high school reading questions
nor inequity
work, in equities:
invest in students, not stocks.
buy them a future.
That Reminder of Parenthood
i didn’t get a photo
of that bright face looking out from the crowd
of the circle of middle school spur-of-the-moment dancers
jamming to a Middle Eastern tune
with their white black brown faces
and her Latin American dress spinning out from under
a tunnel of happiness
there is no way
no possible way
my phone could have captured
the enraptured joy of that moment
of the confidence instilled back into my
fifth-grade-turned-sour timid child
who has found her place
in the oft-militaristic
ever-loving ever-respectful
intensity of love
that is this school
and when i see those
bright twelve-year-old eyes
shining back at me
because she knows i know
(to pain and back, we’ve been)
it is that moment of parenthood
that reminder of why we are parents
why we bring them into this world
and spend our Saturday nights inside a school
eating foods from around the world
listening to the intricate threads that sew together our humanity
why we love
why we live
why we still hope
for a better tomorrow
Off the List!!
humility lost
entitled generation
device-dependent
scream at teacher’s gift??
made-from-scratch brownies
that they don’t deserve
how dare they demand
a prize for unfinished work–
have i taught them this?
have they learned from me
that talking back, goofing off
are the new class norms?
my busted attempt
at inspiration, this May
bring on summer, PLEASE!!!
Cuando Era Puertorriqueña
one out of seven
fought back poverty with books
same family, same chance
i see my students
make these same choices–young! yet–
old enough to know
should i fight for them?
for a dream they look for?
or is it my dream?
this i’ll never know
but i’d be one of seven
and fight my way out
Branches
long lost love story
to their eyes, ears, phones win all
can’t they see beauty?
dirty jokes revealed
modern film adaptation
i still can’t win them
sometimes the weight wins
bearing down on my heartstrings
i question my choice
they go home, forget
(just another stupid class)
for me, a heartache
i search in branches
for tomorrow’s brighter sky
let the clouds break free
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