Friday, December 19, 2008

A Good Birth Day

The hand cannot grasp water
but two hands, cupped, catch it
The hands cannot make rain
but patience awaits it
and two hands, cupped, catch it.

Life is a flood
that overflows the borders
made by our hands
but still there is enough
to drink.

The hand does not grasp water
but the cup of the hands offers
as much water as the hands
can carry
to the lips.

A year is the span of rain and rivers
that two hands, open
receive within their borders
and carry
to the lips.

(This poem was written by my friend Mark Schultz, for my birthday in 2006. I just found it while looking through memorabilia this evening and cleaning out my bedroom closet. A treasure, Mark. Thank you.)

Sunday, December 14, 2008

What I Know Best

What I know best
is the darling way you talk with your hands,

the feel of your firm, warm cheek against mine.

What I know best
is the fly-free joyful noise of your gorgeous laughter,

the feel of your arm around my hip as I fade into the land of dreams.

What I know best
is the almost-but-not-quite cocky confidence of your sincerely passionate words,

the feel of your impossibly soft hands on my beaming face and in my hair.

What I know best
is everything you are, the magical light in your earthen eyes,

the feel of your ever-wounded, never failing, bigger-than-Life, container-of-Love heart.

I know you.