my morning prayer call:
please end these flooding puddles
water can destroy
our house ruined thrice
our hope so oft washed away
ponds where there was lawn
but look at the view
the first-world rainy view
to make my request
after the drenched walk
to a surprise bonus check
to start my summer
it’s like He listened
by midday? pools and blue skies
walking can save souls
summer-teasing sky
in the midst of finals week
beckons this field trip
free lawn movie night
we can pretend school’s out
just four days early
younger girls’ voices
marred by oldest’s attitude
they just want to sing
i just want to hear
all their tiny voices sing
like when they were tots
concert on the green
plagued by rain, adolescence,
unforgiving looks
at home, peace returns
Daddy’s voice sings poetry
as he says goodnight
the oldest studies
in her hole of happiness
escapes into books
my voice escapes me
don’t know how to talk to her
no voice of reason
will she hear my voice
when in my dreams, she listens?
gives voice to my joy?
we all have choices
to hear the ‘tude or the song
listen… sweet voices!
no way to see her
as the crazy little girl
now so close to teen
i’d rewind our lives
to bring back those soft moments
without dirty looks
alas, i chose this
and still love her–so fiercely–
love can’t be rewound
another battle
is it the rain, the music?
or just being twelve?
preteen mood swings break
my relationship with my
once-sweet little girl
i try to stay calm
bring forth my yoga breathing
my inner smile
but rain keeps beating
stinging our faces with tears
will i lose this war?
the very next day
frustration rules parenthood
can’t i just have peace?
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
blueberry morning
jumping, painting, coloring
make my Mother’s Day
(never mind the fights
the back talk that’s motherhood
the teen wannabes)
to end, we play spoons
the morning snow has melted
we have only blooms
only love we share
with slightly spoiled three girls
who gave me this day
a lasting impact:
two years after Spain living
she still shows interest
group culture project
acoustic guitar homeland
plays her hand at chords
yes, they were too young
to fully understand Spain
what it could offer
but joy of bragging
piques her cultural interest,
memories’ high rates
in the end, worth it
an investment that pays back
one strum at a time
free Sunday funday
festive city opens spring
with cartwheels and dolls
Location:S Saint Paul St,Denver,United States
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