after a long walk
sun silences the screaming
ringing in my ears
Rediscovering Respect
after a long walk
sun silences the screaming
ringing in my ears
truth
Find the Fleeting Light
scaling these cliff walls
feels easier than your words
of guilt and judgment
yet, rivers sparkle;
ancients thrived here, not survived
(just like you and me)
too much to take in–
the beauty of history,
of sights still unseen,
of children’s faces
as youth clings as fleetingly
as the setting sun
we are captive here
in these soft moments of light
(help me preserve them)
Lost and Found
you couldn’t steal this:
ancient homes, history learned,
survivors by cliff
or these sweet faces
of my three girls, unafraid
to face your world
no, you can’t take that;
my identity’s in words
found here. not with you.
Eighteen Years as Us
Numbers for our weekend: Bruce turned 39, our marriage turned 18, we hiked 25 miles, gained 4520 feet in elevation, endured 100 or more stream crossings, 4 thunderstorms, 50 fallen trees, and carried 80 pounds of food, equipment, and water. We reached our limit halfway through yesterday, but marriage is continuous–we chose the loop trail just like we chose each other 18 years ago. And we’ll keep hiking, helping each other cross streams, build shelters, cook meals, and climb mountains, till the last limit of our lives. Happy anniversary!
Day Twenty-Nine, Road Trip 2016
End of the road, by the numbers:
Four girls, 6059 miles, 19 states, the nation’s capital, 7 state parks, 7 national monuments, 9 nights of camping, 2 hotels, 1 apartment, 1 beach house, 29 days… We are HOME!! Life is an adventure. Be your own driver!!
Day Twenty, Road Trip 2016
in the man’s big house
they built him a three-room suite;
his children lived here:
remnants of slave life:
hard-hitting and far-reaching
(Black Lives Matter. Now?)
they dug up red clay
to lay every brick … by brick,
by breaking their backs
his famous status:
founder of freedom, writer
(declared our country)
brick by brick by brick
he laid his lies and kept his slaves
and wrote our future
and we swallow it
and throw coins at his gravestone
and try to forgive
they all shared this view–
from the big house; the slave house;
the land formed by God
and so we move on,
brick by brick by road by road
to see its beauty
Day Fifteen, Road Trip 2016
everyone wins today
with sleeping in and reading books
and me fitting in a bike ride
on the way to the movies
(coastal views, zero elevation,
heat seeping through my new
jersey in a rushed attempt to
meet the time schedule)
and yet it hovers.
my vacation.
my vacation with friendly family,
getting-along-quite-well girls,
ocean views and coral reefs
and the best lake swimming there is
and …
no happy hour.
pedaling across those bridges,
sweating steps in Savannah,
making it through another day,
a blessed, lucky day on this earth…
and no drink to top it off,
to melt the anxiety that comes
with upcoming controversial family,
the stress that will be DC in July,
seeing my father-in-law slowly lose his mind;
no drink to bring brighter to life
the constancy of waves,
to further open my mouth for all
the thoughts i’m dying to share,
(to pour onto the page);
no drink to further relax my toes
into this cushion of sand,
my sore muscles into the clutch of alcohol,
my mind from the weight of the world.
and i say it again and again:
There’s always a reason…
and even on the perfect day,
the life’s a beach dream vacation day,
it. is. still. hard.
it is why i pedal.
why i write.
why i drive 6000 miles.
why i watch waves.
because the need to escape is real.
in all of us, no matter how picture-perfect our lives appear,
it is as real as this view, this beach, these toes.
but i made it.
i made it through another day.
and this poem is my happy hour.
Day Fourteen, Road Trip 2016
Girl Scout Headquarters
mixed with colonial wealth
(built on the slaves’ backs)
sometimes beauty’s marred
history’s hard to swallow
amid perfect squares
yet we walk through it
splashing, playing giant chess,
our steps going on
pieces of our past
even when they’re earned with blood
mark a clear future:
we can absorb this,
take pics, eat gator, and grin,
hoping we’ve moved on
(though the shadows know
of King Cotton, oppressed girls,
Sherman’s burning march)
we can’t have it all
the vacation, family… peace
without the whole truth
we can just love them
hope they never see the dark
(only the beauty)
Day Thirteen, Road Trip 2016 (Traveling Truths)
forts can be pretty
and with alligator moats
quite exciting, too
hobbit holes exist
if you travel far enough
to open your eyes
cousin love binds us
just as beaches and waves do
under our shared sky
biking brings beauty
along every road we ride
from mountains to coast
Day Ten, Road Trip 2016
from a fighting ride
to playing dolls on the beach;
camp beauty parlor
love my travelers–
though they bicker and complain–
the road unites them
only each other
to entertain, love, and learn
making their journey
under this bright moon
as it waxes our return
to everywhere home
Step Write Up 