he scored seventeen
has a scholarship waiting
asks to leave class now
the minimum score?
twenty-one for survival
thirty-six: perfect
not even halfway
to the level of knowledge
for college-bound kids
but he’ll play football
that’s all that really matters
money, money, greed
meanwhile, i teach kids
who spend hours reading words
that will take them where?
the depth of a poem
the silence of acceptance
knowledge lost in games
red-letter day starts
with no meetings, extra plan
and ends with yoga
all baskets empty
week of copies, lesson plans
teacher’s piece of peace
students were pleasant
chess-club-induced quiet house
recharges my soul
soon they’ll bombard me
with high-strung voices of youth
different piece of peace
i’ll take the pieces
fit them into life’s puzzle
each day can bring peace
silent overturn
of a fragmented first day
shocked apologies
after thirteen years
of hearing broken English
poetry sounds bright
written by freshmen
whose voices i’ll discover
with this twist of fate
before dawn, i walk
full moon of icy danger
to be there for them
classroom lit, open
first day, students new to me
i set standards high
phones, backtalk, shouting
first impression resistance
shake me to my core
after school begging
for schedule changes, fallbacks
they hate and love me
i missed my girls’ smiles
their good-morning kisses, hugs
to face this chaos?
slushy post-school walk
to their bright eyes, warm faces
lost in built-up play
then, online ranting
plagiarizing grown student
demanding grade change
why you, and not them?
the question of my moon day
please… catch me a moon
make it bright like them
shining beyond snowy morn
lighting, guiding love
you’re coming back now
the truth lies behind bottles
wish i could break them
whispers and gossip
that you aren’t ready to face
the rest of your life
how will you swallow
whatever life’s bitter taste
and carry on, safe?
i would walk with you
but i think of empty rooms
how hollow life is
without a family
don’t know if you’re better off
(but i know they are)
all the same, it kills
i worry you’ll die like him
with bottle in hand
to keep it secret
no one will reach out to help
you burden yourself
we all burden this
this fear of speaking the truth
until lies kill us
let’s not speak of death
of morose new beginnings
i wish i’d brought hope
i would uncork it
let its elixir shape you
towards a drink-free life
realization:
i’m halfway through motherhood
(though it never ends)
ten-year-old letter
brought me back to those first days
late-night crying babes
but ten years from now?
they’ll all be out of the house
i’ll cry, my babies
when i open it
will my heart be sad, or lost
or, at best, hopeful?
will i be relieved
to think of my youngest girl
sitting in my lap?
or devastated
because she no longer will?
oh how i love them
but i’m halfway through
they’re better skiers than me
(and everything else)
no more crying babes
just the lust for lost moments
that hurt us then, now
what secrets are found
in twenty years of letters?
and what dreams will come?
at sixteen, desperate
first love turmoil, heart crushed
i lived for friends, love
at twenty-six, scared
new baby, husband’s lost job
i lived on blind faith
now, thirty-six,
my life begins to balance
career, family… home??
sleep in which bed, house?
on which continent–east, west?
in whose arms–mine, his?
the letter will tell
my thirty-six-year-old goals
where my heart beats now
but heartbeats have wings
my girls will be all grown up
the world will change
i hope to keep up
with the childlike soul i dreamt
as a young lovebird
while at the same time
accepting life’s challenges
and… i can’t plan them
Cartagena blues
teasing me with memories
soldier guarding life
here i am, snowbound
(silent beauty winter)
biting cold, warm home
i could take this pic
right there next to that palm tree
basque in Spain sun
but i am here now
family on every corner
tongue out for snowflakes
tasted continents
on either side of the sea
and i am home now
our boots squeak with snow
light as sparkling feathers
quiet city streets
middle one agrees
to traipse in winter beauty
so much like her mom
this brings me to peace
from sleepless, sorrowful nights
my words lost, then found
like our snowy prints
only seen from right behind
otherwise ignored
my most precious gift
recorded for all my life
despised by loved ones
perhaps she will walk
behind my wordy footsteps
her write to escape
for now, quiet snow
i accept what i can’t change
and keep on writing
for some it’s the tree
others love the Christmas lights
for me, it’s the roast
scent of cranberries
rosemary, thyme, and red wine
bring my holiday
we’re having roast beast!
the Grinch is absent today
in our happy home
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