Night Owl (a poem)

Under the gauze of moonlight, whose sleep is for the sane

heaviness of silken clouds gives way to autumn rain
summer's flowers fade again, but speak with no disdain
beauty is, and is again, with strength to thus remain.

Softly, they hold your name, dear one, as butterflies alight
barely a print, left in sand, the leaver of it, unknown
like stars expressed from mountain tops, twinkling white-hot bright
shine into eternity, to home, to home, to home.

Your Muse

Igniting ancient fires,

within,

without,

seen,

invisible.

My breath,

gives flames

their fuel.

My body -

mine,

yours.

I am.

Your muse.

When You Were a Little Boy

I just left my 9 year old son's room, where we snuggled together in the dark before sleep, as we've done since his birth.

I hope I never forget this moment:

Me: If you want to be an oceanographer, you'll probably want to go to college near the ocean.
Son: But I would miss you mama.
Me: Well, I'll just move there. I want to live at the ocean again anyway.
Son: We can never leave this house, mama.
Me: You can't be an oceangrapher in Iowa, there is no ocean here.
Son: I can study at the lake.
Me: But then you'd be a lakeographer.

silence . . .my son thinks about this.

The "night-night" music plays, and I feel his little body relax into sleepiness. I realize, as I sometimes do, that these nights are very numbered. In a year or two, more or less, he won't want me to cuddle with him at night, as it should be.

Me: When you are a big man, I will always remember the nights we listened to night-night music in the dark, when you were a little boy.

My son feels me crying, he can tell there are tears in my eyes, and he turns to look at me. We tickle each other and laugh.

Learning

That loved-up old
blue bear,
waits on your bed,
the keeper of your heart,
for now.

And I am here
listening to silence,
touching the space where you
breathe into the night.
I am learning
to miss you.

Can you hear the rain? (a song)

Can you hear the rain?
It's falling all around again . .
Can you hear my heart?
It's falling all around again.

Time goes so slowly by,
all I want is to sing you a lullaby,
and no matter what I try,
I'm left far away, I sigh.

Can you hear the rain?
it's falling all around again . . .
Can you hear my heart?
It's calling you again.

This sweet and bitter distance,
I won't let it get us.
This love meets no resistance,
and it flows where it will, where it will.

Can you hear the rain?
it's falling all around again,
flooding where it's empty
I think of us, and float again.

Some Things Just Are (a song for Davi)

See that moon up in our sky?
Does it ever ask why,
it shines on everything?
See that plane flying high?
Does it ever ask why,
it brings me back to you again?

We could ask a thousand questions
about this love and its directions,
but I don't need any reasons to know:
I'll be with you.

Some things just are
like the blazing sun and the stars,
like the ocean and the wind,
when you find your precious friend.
Some things just are,
you and me are one of those things,
my heart glows every time I look at you,
some things just are.

See that smiling rose in bloom?
Hear the stillness of this silent room?
Feel the wind say a thousand things?
Hear the music rock us to our little dreams?

Some things just are
like the sun and the stars,
like the ocean and the wind,
when you find your whispering friend.
Some things just are,
you and me are one of those things,
my heart glows every time I look at you,
some things just are.

It's Another Beautiful Day (a song for my cousin Casey)

My amazing cousin Casey Michael Niel Kent passed away recently. I didn't know him well as an adult, as his family moved away to Montana when we were all young, but he inspires me all the same. You can read and listen to more about Casey here:


I got home from work,
brought in the mail,
let the dog out,
like I always do . . .

then it hit me
like a tidal wave,
the world is less kind now,
it lost you.

But is it really so?
Is the day less magical
because we've let you go?

It's another beautiful day
isn't that what you would say?
take a flying leap into the sky,
it's another beautiful day.
Isn't that what you'd want me to say?
The sun is still here, somehow
it's another beautiful day.

I rushed to the northbound train
passed her with
her seeing eye dog last week
and I thought of you,

walked back some steps
just to ask if she needed help,
what would Casey do?
what would you do?

It's another beautiful day
you wouldn't have it any other way,
it doesn't take much, just to be kind,
it's another beautiful day.
Close your weary eyes,
and open your mind,
it's another beautiful day.

Perfect Sunday Morn (a song)

Breathe yourself into me
take my hand in yours,
take your sweet time
and don't let go, love,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

This bed is the best place
in the world right now,
(yes, it really is)
in the space between
a whisper and a kiss,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

This might be my favorite day
that ever came to be,
I get the chance to hold
and pray and dance you
on this perfect Sunday morn.

Shelter me with all you are
cradle me at last,
touch me up to heaven,
place your heart in mine
I'll bury mine in yours,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

Let's always feel like this
maybe just one more perfect kiss,
on this shining Sunday morn.

Musti the Teddy Bear

When my son was about 1 year old, maybe less, a small bright blue bear came hurtling through the atmosphere on his way to my son's crib. He was on a mission to be Max's companion and best friend, through thick and thin. He was sent from the Blue Planet to befriend the most special, funniest, smartest, most beautiful child he could find. He found Max. His blue rocket landed in the alley near my house. I took him inside and put him in my son's crib.

Max and Musti have been steadfast companions through thick and thin, for about 10 years now. There is something innocently sweet and insanely beautiful about the many photos of Max holding Musti. Some of them, I’ve surreptitiously taken while Max slept. I probably won’t show them to Max’s prom date, I couldn’t violate the sanctity of the Max/Musti relationship that way.

Indigo (a poem)

Sleepy skin on sleepy skin,
cheek to chest, I breathe you in,
to the land of Nod we're halfway up,
when desire drips, tips the cup.

Wanting spills all over us,
a darkened, hushed, and crimson lust,
mix of chemistry and trust,
we mustn't, too tired, but then,

we must.

Reaching deep inside you find,
the lock is turned, I unwind,
exotic olive on alabaster,
find my heart, spinning faster.

Glowing moon above,
illuminates this scene of love,
delicious feelings bodies know,
whispering sighs in indigo.

Dang, these are good!

I do believe these might be the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever eaten, and that's saying something. The recipe came from www.101cookbooks.com, where I've discovered all sorts of formulas for yummy food lately.

Do pop over there and take a look . . .Heidi's recipes are generally healthy whole foods, prepared in simple, delicious ways (with enough in the "chocolate" category to satisfy even me.) The Carmelized Tofu and Brussel Sprouts is entirely delish as well! Try it!

When I Am Old and Wise (a song)

When I am old and wise,
when the years melt away disguise,
when light illuminates freckled alabaster skin,
will I be there, will I have learned to let the sun in?

When this heart has walked a million miles,
and I count the fears and the tearful smiles,
when it all starts to fade, slowly rosy blue,
will I share a gentle, fiery bed with you?

When the ocean comes to carry me away,
there is no sorrow left and only days of play,
whispers echo on the moonlit waves at night,
shooting stars carry delicate messages of light.

When this old heart has walked a million miles,
and learned to breathe deeply and smile ancient smiles,
every day we'll walk holding hands and kissing
young lovers think "what do they have that we are missing?"

When I am old and very, very wise,
when sunset illuminates these green eyes,
I'll shine everything I've learned to be,
a sparkling prism of white love, that will be me.

Some Things Never Change (a song)

I don't pretend to understand how my marriage unraveled over the years, but it did. I was thinking about that today and feeling another wave of grief. Grieving is such a strange process, hitting you at the most random times and when you least expect it.

Some Things Never Change

Some things never change
and some things do,
that's what I was whispering
the day I left you.

My heart still breaks sometimes
and I love you still,
Some things never change
and some things will.

When we first fell into this
and I was your girl,
gifts you gave to me so well,
the music in your world.

As time ran hurriedly by
we sang the saddest lullaby.
Some things never change
and some things do.

Bridge:
Over all that time,
no reason and no rhyme,
what was once so sublime
turned bittersweet.
The tears began to fall,
the flood broke every wall,
some things never change
and some things do.

Dust has settled down,
I see so clearly now
where I went so wrong
where I'm to blame.
Lessons to have learned,
into whispered memory burned,
some things never change
and some things do.

I Watch You Breathe (a song)

I rarely find the words to talk about my son. All of them seem so inadequate. This song sang itself to me on a bus from Logan Airport the other day and I was grateful for it.

I Watch You Breathe

I held you when you could not walk
I held you when you could not see
I watched you learn to crawl
and hoped you'd be what you could be

Never felt joy so shimmering gold
as when you smiled at me
in the night when I couldn't sleep
I would watch you breathe

Someone knew what they were doing
when I was handed you
you're the colors of the rainbow
the world in those eyes bright blue

And I know I'll never get this right
I can only try
my gold statue might never come,
but I sang the world's best lullaby

Can I teach you all the things
you need to live in peace?
Let your heart fly south for winter's warmth
like a thousand dark gray geese

I never feel a joy so shining gold
as when you laugh with me
and when I can not sleep at night
I still watch you breathe

Yes, when I want the world to stop
I still watch you breathe.

What If (a song)

What if dreams came true
if you just wanted them to,
and what if stars could fly
into you when you die?

What if everything
were black and white
and brilliant colors faded
from your heart's sight?

I want to know
someone tell me
what if the secrets
aren't meant to be?
I want to know
I really do
if it doesn't matter
then what to do?

What if the ceaseless motion
just leads to more of that?
What if you want so much to,
but never get to bat?

What if all the rain
in this world,
won't grow your love,
and passion just spins you into a whirl?

I want to know
someone tell me
what if the secrets
aren't meant to be?
I want to know
tell me true
if it doesn't matter
then what to do?

Stop, for a while
sit, for a while
breathe, for a while
and help me see.

What if all the tiaras in the world
can only beauty take?
What if it really is
about the love we make?

What if time is wasting
and here we are apart?
It can take days and years to
create that sort of art . . .

I want to know
someone tell me,
what if the secrets
aren't meant to be?
What if I come running back to me,
What if I don't like what I see,
What will I say to her if she,
keeps on asking "what if?"

Brenda Takes Her Leave

I didn't know Brenda that well. Something of an acquaintance, but one of whom I was fond. Brenda was very funny, and anyone who can bring laughter to my days is someone I am blessed to know.

I met Brenda two summers ago. My first camping trip since I was a child, I joined an AMC hike, and she was a frequent hiker. She loved the White Mountains of New Hampshire. A few years before I met her, she began hiking with a wonderful group of mindful nature admirers.

I was Brenda's foot massage partner. On that first hiking trip, we gathered around the camp-fire after a very, very long and grueling day of hiking, and partnered up to enjoy foot rubs. When I heard the sorrowful news yesterday, I thought of that night around the campfire, but just now recalled that she massaged my tired feet also. I also remembered that on that trip, she suggested we all hold hands and sing a song of thanks for friends around the dinner table. We did, and it was a moment of gratitude in my life I won't soon forget.

I admired Brenda's occupation. She was a hospice nurse. I can scarcely imagine a more difficult profession. On subsequent hikes, she sometimes told me, half-sadly and angrily, and half humorously, about her patients and their families.

I never imagined Brenda was sad or was having any severe difficulties emotionally. She was single and had no children, but surrounded herself with many different joy-filled communities of people, from the Unitarian Church to various groups at Rowe Conference Center, to an ecovillage initiative, to the AMC hiking group.

I wish I had known her better. Then maybe I would have seen her sorrow. Maybe I could have convinced her to seek help for her deep and intense pain.

I can only say now: Thank you, dear Brenda. Thank you for the moments of hilarity and light you brought to my life. I wish I had the chance to tell you now, and to hike with you again.

Brenda drove herself to the White Mountains earlier this week, and walked into the woods to end her life in a place which brought her peace. I truly hope it has. I shall miss you Brenda.

For Baci

"Baci" means "kiss" in Italian. Baci was my cat-friend for 12 years. He loved to kiss anyone and everyone, like some kind Italian uncle. Today I drove to the vet with him in my lap, sobbing, so he could leave this earth in peace instead of in pain.

I found Baci in my backyard one snowy winter night about 12 years ago. It was sheer luck that I walked outside right at that moment and saw him. He was a large tabby, a very strong Tom-cat. He seemed hungry and it was cold. In case he belonged to someone, I didn't take him inside that night, but left him on blankets in a large box on the front porch, so he could leave if he wanted to. He never wanted to.

Baci was a champion purr-er. That cat had the loudest purr I've ever heard. And he loved to purr right into your ear, in the middle of the night. He tried to lay on your head (likely so as to capture the heat) while you tried to sleep while launching him to the end of the bed over and over again.

Baci was at my side through many events in my life. He was there when I brought my son home from the hospital and when I woke in the middle of night with him for exhausting years. Baci always knew when I was upset, and he would walk over and offer the comfort of his purring and softness. He was there when I cried and cried over a lost pregnancy and then a few years later when it all happened again. He climbed onto my lap as I wailed like a lost child at the news of my beloved grandmother's death. Baci was there when my son learned to walk and talk. He was there when I passed the bar exam and cried with joy and relief. He watched and listened as my marriage crumbled over time. At the very end of his life, he taught me to be courageous in the face of death.

Several weeks ago, I noticed that Baci was spending more and more time in stillness and seemed to be getting thinner. At first I chalked it up to old age, but after he spent over 6 hours one day in one spot on my bed, I realized there was something truly wrong with him. The vet went through a lot of blood tests only to conclude that while he was dehydrated and had lost weight, all tests were normal. It left us with two options as to what was wrong, and it ended up being the worse of the two. There was a large tumor right next to Baci's big, strong, beautiful heart. I saw it right there on the x-ray, through tears, as the vet's eyes grew wet too, and he softly and compassionately said, "I'm so sorry."

Baci had been at the hospital for 2 nights and days at this point, so I asked if I could take him home for one night, and bring him back the next day. They removed the i.v. and feeding tube, and I took my Baci home to be loved like crazy for the next 24 hours. He slept on my head that night, purring loudly, and I didn't make him get off me. In fact, I moved as little as possible so Baci could stay exactly as he wished all night long.

I took pictures of my friend, so I wouldn't ever forget what he looked like on his last day on earth. I'm surprised I stopped crying long enough to take photos, but I did. One of them is at the top of this journal entry. He rested on my chest like that for a very long time as I cried and tried to memorize the weight of his body on me, the softness of his fur, and the sound of his "purrrrr, purrrrr."

I gave him every delicacy I could find, from heavy cream to cat treats to Petromalt, which he loved and always gobbled like candy to a chorus of "purrrrr, purrrrr."

I carried him around all morning, and talked to him. I took him outside, held him in the autumn sunshine and kissed his nose. I laid on the front porch swing and held him on my chest while he purred and then slept.

I held his adorable head in my hands, looked into his pale jade green eyes, and told him "thank you." "Thank you Baci (sob), for being my friend for all this time (sob), for sitting with me when I lost two pregnancies, and when I lost my grandma, and when things were sad and when things were happy. I love you Baci, thank you."

I didn't want to take him to the vet today. My body even started to fight me and I began to shake after I loaded him into the car.

When the very kind vet injected him with the anesthesia, it was as I'd heard and been told: He seemed to just very peacefully and quickly go to sleep and relax in my arms. His beautiful head was supported on my arm, his strong Tom-cat body on my lap. I was petting him when he died, and my voice was the last thing he heard, "I love you Baci." How I choked that out I have no idea. I guess I could do it because I wanted him to hear it.

He died snuggled in my arms, in no pain. Though I hate today, I can see the beauty of it, too. He was very ill and would have only gotten worse. I hope I gave him a gift in easing his passing. He gave me more than I would ever have been able to repay.

Thank you Baci. I love you.

Will You Take This Heart? (a song)

Will you take this heart, as day spins into day?
Will you take this heart, though frightened words we say?
Over lonesome miles, over shining years
through the glowing smiles, through the rain of tears,
Will you take this heart?

New day whispers now, roads lead to us somehow,
fresh sun streaming in, wakes desire again,
no matter what we said, as we laid down in bed,
your body shelters mine, nothing else could feel as fine,
Will you take this heart of mine?

Always hold me close, hold the light that matters most,
all my armour now is gone, carried for too long
I see into your brown, and you can fall into my green,
sending laughter and a kiss, can we always feel like this?
Will you take this heart?

A Week with Thich Nhat Hanh

I am at a loss for words to describe this week of mindfulness in the presence of Thay. Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps it means I learned this week to find the place where awareness means more than all the words I could write.

I am so thankful for this week of kindnesses large and small. I am thankful for a week of steeping in pure white love. I am thankful for each smile and each moment of silence. I shall carry this week with me always. Thank you, teacher.

Missing (a poem for Davide)

When you are there and I am here,
I long to hold you close, my dear,
when the work day makes us miss,
delicious lips I long to kiss.

Some day we shall recall the way,
work and child kept us away,
walking sweetly hand in hand,
upon some beach of golden sand.

Reminiscing -- all the years,
all the salty mermaid tears,
washed us clean and made us whole,
bound our hearts and blessed our soul.

Missing is one thing I,
can tolerate, until the sky
leads me to you, back again,
wrapped in arms of dearest friend.