november

november is tired days
grey wet of drowned trees
bare, barren
silver silent inbetween
of waiting

a glimpse of mortality

I’m reposting this today, in memory of my uncle, Gary Hildebrand, who died this morning. This is for his family and for everyone grieving his loss. The words are not adequate, but they are all I have.

I saw you dead
or dying
and caught my breath
with the heavy pain
of love

untitled

eyelids fall with the heaviness of sleep
or maybe just to keep away the world
tired from the effort of seeing beyond reality
exhausted by the ordinary everydayness of being

memory

it was four years ago
but I don’t remember the month
you were wearing green
but I don’t remember your face
I thought it rained all day
the pictures show nothing but blue sky

playing

God came over to play one day
we raced outside yelling “last one
through the door is a slowpoke!”
and trying not to trip over our badly
tied shoelaces
I won (but God didn’t mind)

“lets build a fort”
old bricks and the loose bars
off the little wooden gate
dense bushes and a few buckets
to sit on
became a medieval castle
God wanted to be the jester
so I got to be Queen

and when we got tired
of ruling our kingdom
we rolled down the hill
at the end of the garden
careful to avoid the stream
screaming with laughter
when one of us came too close

I made daisy chains
and God blew dandelion seeds
into the wind
sneezing every once in awhile
when one tickled his nose

and then it was time
for God to go home
but I didn’t mind
because I was going
to play at her house tomorrow.

untitled

there is only music
the darkness is full of it
this language with no words

Israel

I’ve been waiting for a long time now
sitting in the dark
just out of earshot
allowing myself small portions of hope
just enough to keep believing

you will come

someday

I will love you