Month: March 2018

How tidy, the shape we ascribe to a day, suggesting we fit our lives into squares, neatly assign them numbers, then tear them off in the morning and throw them away.   Calendars march in most orderly rows: always a sequence of sterile white blocks, they’re soon enough packed in a banker’s box along with… Continue reading The Shape of Day →

“I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down, and still somehow it’s clouds illusions I recall. I really don’t know clouds at all.” Recorded by Judy Collins (1967), written by Joni Mitchell   We lived in a dream—and she sang of clouds, in the nicotine haze of a small coffee shop,… Continue reading Both Sides Now →

(The Grief Trilogy, Part III) Sorry shadows creep inside and sleep in corners that were yours. Invisible—but clearly there— they wait for me behind the doors. I often stare at emptiness— disbelieving, for a spell, and silently the shadows fill the hollow spaces where you dwelled. There’s one now, and I can feel it faint… Continue reading Shadows →

Maybe right now I won’t put away her little red collar, her favorite bed— just in case she comes back one day, in case I can smell the top of her head and ears, and hear her pawing the door when I come home and turn the key. Maybe I’ll stroke her chest once more,… Continue reading Zoey’s Good-bye →

Place no limits on this grief of mine-- don’t try to cheer me out of feeling sorrow. I need to wear it for a longer time, and won’t be ready to let go tomorrow.   The ragged tears that burn and sting my eyes, the knot that’s tied inside my throat and chest, are raiment… Continue reading This Grief of Mine →

A Life Too Brief “Sally Ann Cox was born 2 February, 1868. Sally Ann Cox departed this world 8 July, 1868.”   In faded letters, paper creased and torn, the bible’s binding broken, now, with age, —a baby’s name, the dates when she was born and died, after five months—engrave the page.   Two simple… Continue reading A Life Too Brief →