even in the mud
the dog shows me endless love
unmatched for humans
Puppy Love
even in the mud
the dog shows me endless love
unmatched for humans
loyalty
I Cry for his Loss
i cry for the card, for his loss,
for his Iraqi-Syrian past,
for all the burning hours of summer school
where he committed himself
to finishing high school in three years.
i cry for his words, for his loss,
his inescapable self that has hidden
a kind face in a chaotic classroom,
his sly smile catching my every
snuck-in witty remark
(even when no one else could).
i cry for the system, for his loss,
shuffled by our government’s wars
between homelands that stole his home,
for his pride in Iraqi architecture
that he may never see again.
i cry for his future, for his loss,
for how unequivocally kind his soul remains
after all he has witnessed in twenty-one years,
for his brothers who wait under his watchful shadow,
for our country to give him a chance.
i cry for his words, for my loss,
to not have his presence in my classroom,
to have the nicest thing anyone’s
ever written to me
disappear with a graduation ceremony.
i cry for the world, for their loss,
for robbing refugees of their rights,
for keeping the beauty that is him,
that is within all of them,
from sharing their strength
with all of us, inshallah,
for a brighter tomorrow.
Peaked
cancellation brings:
clouds and mountain views, fresh snow
(and my youngest joins)
family is family.
no matter what they all say
(or my inner voice)
with family: mountains
we would be afraid to climb
(alone; otherwise)
with cancellations:
the realization that
love piques on these peaks
My Hope for Today
it took seven weeks
for you to trust me enough
to sit in my lap
pleasure purrs through us
as you cuddle and nibble
and at last share love
Make My Marade
annual Marade
frosted with ice (years without)
but now winter’s here–
in Trump’s dark shadow
we march for all we have lost,
all there is to lose.
we resist snowflakes
that try and fail to stop us
from the truth we seek
we fight the good fight
in songs, in signs, in speeches
(and one day we’ll win)
Running Rabid
since the election,
somehow my days have become
a cataclysmic mix of mundane chores
and tearing my hair out over
what we’ve done to our democracy
it’s the gut wrenching choice
Travis must make as Riona and I
grapple with Old Yeller-–
do I shoot my best friend
or suffer the same fate?
only—
our fate is sealed, well after
the roan bull has staggered onto our property… and Yeller?
his last howl hovers over
a hydrophobic nation
God save us all.
American Doomsday
when i took this pic
i didn’t know the sunset
would be our sundown
Flushing
self-preservation
often looks introverted;
whatever it takes
i need my mountains
to save me from self pity
that swallows me up
and yet, there is hope:
a Girl Scout troop, a book club…
new horizons wait
Getaway. Get. Away.
as we leave, she tells us goodbye till Thanksgiving,
and as always i can’t tell if it’s a guilt trip or a plea.
soon there will be no Thanksgivings.
it will be just us, moved across continents and back,
moved across town and back,
only to remain while they go.
and i pile it on my weekend,
probably our last getaway without grandparents in town,
so perfectly shaped by a Colorado sky,
so tainted by the loss in every flip
as social media stings me again.
before i walk down the steps,
i remind her of Mythili’s birthday,
our dinner reservations before Thanksgiving.
but it’s another night of tears for me knowing that they’re leaving,
they’re really leaving,
and soon all the birthdays and holidays will be just us,
just us,
and i feel the vacancy already,
the gaps once filled by friends
who’ve left us one by one,
and the greatest gap of all
lying in wait,
a storm fit to burst,
a cat poised to pounce,
a weekend ready to be ruined.
and i stopped drinking this year
and lost eight pounds
and didn’t write a single mean post
about my sister, mother, or anyone,
and it’s been ten months,
so why why why
am i surrounded by sadness?
i drive home and can’t dry the tears long enough to read with my youngest,
have only enough in me to enforce showers and teeth brushing
and folding one load of laundry,
and i want so badly to be more than the world only to him,
and i think how fiercely i latched onto him at age nineteen, knowing
even then,
even then that no one would love me that much the whole world over,
and to this day, even with that love in every step of my soul,
rejection. still. hurts.
and this is how our getaway ends:
with the waterfall that never stops.
and the road that never ends.
Technically a Winner
Girl Scout turnaround
after a friend-connect run:
silver linings shine
computer genius
who should be making big bucks
for knowing the most
(at least i won him
to save me from tech nightmares
that plague my career)
Saturday wins week
(dipped in sorrow and regret)
proving that hope wins
Step Write Up 