Dear Mr. Trump,
I sit by my beautiful mother’s nursing room window every day—unable to give her comfort.
When I hear your voice barking Covid, Covid, Covid, I pray for the strength to forgive you.
Tag Archives: prayer
for Lily
what is motherhood if not by your side
watching you my love
what is pure in my life holding by a wisp within your deconstructing body
sweet child how I need to scream inside the ocean
smack the gods
embrace the spirits
where you won’t hear my pain
these arms and legs of mine so powerful
if I could give them and live to hold you still,
carry you as I have done across these years
never with regret
all that I am
wrapped around your life
such beauty in your speaking eyes, your soul-plumped mouth
how you’ve grown these past seasons
metal-bar suns and rubber-tube moons following along your flesh
yet
you and I have traveled so much longer than they believed possible
now
you grow a bit tired
your little body weary from the outside
fatigue settling some on the inside where my care holds you together
but still fierce in your heart
in your eyes of earth
you are my rock
you are my joy
not in any time
in any space
of any moment
will I ever grow tired
of your heart living inside mine
Gallean with ragdoll
to my cousin, Marie for her beautiful daughter, Lily xo
songs of silences
deformed putty pink
robbed of warm breath
contorted sweet necks
tar bubble eyes bulging
frail unfeathered waxy torn
foiled unsung tiny raptors
never will gush
broad kite wings against the wind
meander upon the thermals
dead
before winter’s white bone chanced a kill
stuffed down bright
spring’s dark bosom
stalks cradled
strapped with dried fall grass
gentle summer kisses will not carry
overlapping notes
sung in threes
new harmonies in pubescent throats
echoing from fresh limb to sailing cloud
undeveloped triplets all
delicate melodies
small and quieted
in the driveway
sad little chicks
stilled
baby birds
in her songs of silences
nature candidly reminds us
she is both
judge and jury
I wish this piece wasn’t here or anywhere else – but I hope it serves as a eulogy
for those baby birds – may they fly in eternal peace
art created last year for an illustrated project
Praying for Holiday Magic
Dear Friends,
When I was a little kid, I used to sneak down to the small créche my mom set up every Christmas. I’d kneel before the nativity scene and pretend I was a humble shepherd. Swaddled in midnight darkness, I’d whisper to Baby Jesus that even if I didn’t get the rabbit and the banjo that I asked for every year, I’d still be kind and good to others.
Today I’m thankful for so much in my life, but maybe I’ve become complacent in my gratitude. Perhaps this year I need to be a humble shepherd. I will kneel and pray that the magic of this holiday season touches those in need of magic…
Sometimes even wizards hope for real magic…
Thank you. May your dreams be fills with the magic of slumber…
Thinking Wizard created yesterday for a good friend. He will be auctioned along with many other items to help raise money for the Washingtonville Wizards Senior Class’s Graduation Celebration.
anntogether 