Planning. To Not Plan.

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

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Bask. Basque.

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

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Write of Passage

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

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White Christmas

her comments swallowed
like the Christmas morn semen
cranberry juice, please

i’m not defensive
just wish for white Christmases
like everyone else

i can win this game
Cards Against Humanity
with my best haiku

five girls are sleeping
in my parents’ bungalow
i love my city

my favorite movie
It’s a Wonderful Life, YES!!
live and Live and LIVE!!!!

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Enough

as they grow older
it’s no longer life and death
over midnight cries

now? supply, demand
business modeled parenting
what if we run out?

what can i buy or give
to make them happy, love me?
which–time or gifts?

it’s never enough
they’re either spoiled or loved
often hard to tell

give them the world
so they’ll toss it back to me
demand better one

it’s human nature
to aspire for what’s not there
i’m never enough

love should be enough
i’m up nights loving too much
(they never see this)

as they grow older
i miss the crying days when
i knew they loved me

a hug was enough
to make it through a tough time
and they were all mine

no one will say this
they’ll say how much easier
they’re independent

independent, yes
from our once easy embrace
to face life’s demands

and to demand more
to make me question myself
will this be enough?

no simple response
to parenthood dilemmas
enough guilt tonight

PWB

i looked back because of the hits
and there were no haikus
no strict syllable limitations
to the words he watches me hold back

just the brutality of me
full force. in my middle girl’s words
spoken so harshly in the witching hour

that’s how it was then.
poetry without borders, PWB
just doesn’t work the same as DWB
though the after-effect?
like bourbon to the virgin

you would know if you’d been there.
you’d know how painfully dangerous
that hot liquid could burn your soul.

and he would stop. the car.
that’s how bad.

because you reading this?
and all the rest of the non-stalking world?

if you had him at home?
you wouldn’t carry that demon.
it would be buried. six feet under.
and you’d walk the city streets
and set free your child and live
live
live
like every moment was your last.

Measures of Success

standing room only
crowd hushed for collegiate speech
from a sixth grader

bright academics
the spotlight shines on this school
rainbow of world

social injustice
swept under a brave chorus
strict rules understood

forgotten pencil
equals hour detention?
path drawn to success

unified voices
remedy doubtful choices
good god let them sing

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Happy Christmas Hour

social butterfly
three drinks, chips and salsa in
what i wouldn’t give

i missed their parties
guilt sits behind every sip
will they forgive me?

daughter’s frantic call
and knowing that he’d be there
sum up afternoon

endless work awaits
there’s never a break from life
just a different drink

Home. Made.

another stressed day
just before Christmas bustle
lost to this sickness

tears fresh this morning
frozen pond glistening dawn
star-studded boathouse

guilt trailing my job
as he rushed home, two sick girls
and me? meetings, plans

she came back today
babyless, unpacking shelves
repacking her life

her despondence stung
i couldn’t leave her alone
burdened with boxes

we made plans, had lunch
I got your card, she told me
we’re not sending any

no family photo
for his first, never Christmas

(this is what i hear)

but she won’t say that,
leaves me lines to read between
your girls’ pic was great

her grief in all words
she tells of Christmas-free plans
prepared to move on

this i carry home
with oldest’s three earned awards
to my handsome chef

his job ends next week
i won’t worry who’ll nurse them
and make chicken soup

noodles fall from spoons
and girls, all better, delight
priceless remedy

now they’ll discuss me
what will he do now, and you?
i’ll have no answer

only the safety
of the home he makes for us
beyond what they see

Predictions

like a lost puppy
he waits every afternoon
hoping for some help

i enable him
wonder where his friends might be
knowing he has none

everyday struggles
of left-behind countries, wars
haunt my students’ lives

tomorrow, the same
i’ll give him the look; give in
heart too wrenched for no

i’ll carry work home
(not as heavy as his load)
pray peace will find us