long month. goooood month! but long. this week has kind of officially sucked, although much of that is because i just didn't get my big girl pants on before the weekend ended and i was blindsided at work by things i might not usually let bother me. so it goes. some new poetry below--

1) the truth of the matter is,
you know,
that people do terrible things
to children.
not just children
but to their children

and you see, that is where my comprehension
ends,
in that word, the spaces and lines and dots creating that word:
"their"
the new blood that was once
in their veins
the small bones made from
their bodies

but that is what i know to be true
today
and in the absence of understanding:
this time
there is only grief
and salt tears tumbling down to slick
the dog's fur--
the only neck i clung to being hers:
and in wide brown eyes
thumping tail
head pressed to my jaw
she reminds me
that there is no shame
in feeling each tiny wound

she reminds me,
in little snuggles
and her stomach for my pillow,
that each pinch and ache of
sadness
signals the continuance
of my own humanity

nights like this
i wish i wanted to be:
a dancer
a banker
a chef--
anything else at all
if i could regain
the bits of heart
lost

nights like this
each patch of myself
scraped away in a
soured attempt of kindness
sears as fire

and i can hold only faith
that my broken heart offerings
will repair their own
knowing even as i extend the pieces
that they will fall short
by far:
in smallest bodies
beat ever expanding hearts
solar flares
which i dare not attempt to match

so instead
layer by layer
i will peel the bruised
(and broken)
skin
from fragile
(and fragmented)
bones
and wear their misfortune as my own

hoping
as i do
on nights like this, you know,
that their truth
will one day be a lie
that their history
will not repeat onto itself
in far flung days

but that change will rustle
as wind through oak leaves
and we will do better tomorrow

and

2) In the calm woods, frozen in and out
Of time
There is a sweet pleasure
To find
In the deep drifts of snow and days
That, in fact, the world carries order
Beyond our control

And in the deepest hibernations:
Endless caverns
And starlit paths
We cannot touch what lies beneath,
Where the fawns wait to be born,
In the recesses of a spring yet unknown
Far off in guaranteed days

And in the night
Oh, for trees
Ageless and free
Whistling in the wind a song wise and sad
I go to the woods because they are not mine
I stay because there I am known
Without cause or agenda

We can but hope
Somewhere in worlds far distant from our own
That the woods will wait
Hold their counsel
And keep their peace

For in them is joy
With music in crooked streams
The places where we will lie
In dusty graves
Seeking beyond our bodies
That place which is forever home