I awokeFifteen months afterI could feel an echo of herA longing to reconnectThe missing-you part of grief“I should call her” Fully awakeI knew there could beNo phone callShe was long goneBuried for five seasons A series of unusually pleasant dreamsGifted me with respiteEnded in wakingTo continue my grief.

Dear Mother,I consider myself an expertIn dead mothers.I have twenty-two years of experienceTending to my mother wounds,Hoping to heal themBefore they wound my children.At this point,I’m not sure you make myTop five listof dead people I’d like to have over for dinnerBut maybe if it were possibleWe could go for coffee instead.Unlike those on my…

I am unlearningA practice of productivityAchievementThat does not relyOn me breaking myself openLetting all of my vital partsHang outOnly to be leftWith the painful processOf gathering my organs back upAnd stitching myself back togetherHealing slowlyRepeating the breakingJust after healing I am paying closer attentionTo those pre-break momentsWhen I hear somethingRipOr snap internallyOr feel my innards…

Today I will do my bestTo acknowledge my hurtsWhile gradingTo keep an eye on my unruly griefWhile my children tell me about their daysI will walk through the tunnel of me feelingsWhile walking the dogs,Dragging both my screaming inner selfAnd my stubborn dogOnward. I wrote this poem two years ago today, at the beginning of…

It is the middle of exam weekAbundant patienceHas worn down toSardonic exhaustionI’ve not fully burned outBut the house has caught fireAnd the neighbors can see smokeEscaping from under the front door The useful parts of me are depletedLeaving only the gluttonous chocolate eaterWith a reduced social filterAnticipating a too-short season for renewal.

My Holy WomenHail from unforgiving wildernessesSpeaking the words of God’s peaceThrough turbulent and violent times. Only, those wordsDiscomfort and encroachUpending the truths we feelDrawing us into the badlands. My Holy WomenAre intimate with GodHaving wrestled with Her,Knowing all Her tricky moves. My Holy WomenPerceive the wildness of God,Ripping and tearingAt our expectations. My Holy WomenAre…

I woke up to findThat nothing had been put away last nightThe remnants and leftover candyFrom the children’s gingerbread houseLeftover fondant and wrappersLittered the tableMusic books with sticky note markingsPiled on the pianoPhotocopies for singersStacked in a cornerGlasses of waterStrewn across the counter. I feel no dread or regretAbout the cleanupWe sang aboutThings once believedWith…

I am tangled intoA vast network of connection.I do not know all of the loved onesOf my loved onesBut I see it when people are lostTo the pandemicTo poor mental healthTo other illnesses and circumstances.When the loved ones of my loved onesPass onThe web that connects usRipples with griefAlways reverberatingWith the pangs of loss,A reliable…

Don’t be surprised.This is the countryYou’ve always knownExpressing its not-so-secret desires. We have a deep and abiding love ofGunsWhite peopleHierarchies.Our priorities have been consistent. We thought that ifWe boxed up the nastiest partsIn the 1960sAnd put it in the attic,Racism would recedeGeneration-by-generation.But out of the plain sight(of white people)It grew and spreadlike a poisoned gasThrough…