My Take on the Week

Morning in Africa

Sometimes I look at the week coming at me and see appointments, deadlines, get togethers, do-lists, work and play all neatly assigned to their days and times and locations.  I see the week as if I'm taking a quick glance at iCalendar. 

This week I don't even see day names, let alone specifically assigned time slots.  This week presents itself to me as follows...

Phase 1: Hug Byron goodbye/Hug Heather hello.

Phase 2: Hug Heather goodbye.

Phase 3: Enter no-man's-land/Watch movies/Watch more movies.

Phase 4: Hug my parents hello.

Phase 5: Hug Colin, Trevor and Karly hello.

Phase 6: Hug Byron and Heather hello.

Phase 7: Figure out how/when I get to hug Jesse and Annie hello.

I think it's shaping up to be a pretty good week :)  

(And what's 10,000 miles when there are so many good necks to hug?)

Through the Night

And maybe now
with the space of days
i can whisper
that parting hurt

That night
when they left
and you realized
you wouldn't see them

Your tears
scalded little streaks
down your face
and didn't stop soon

It was late
and they still needed
to come
so we welcomed them

In the dark
we climbed under
our mosquito net
and huddled together

The four of us
with your quiet sobs
The only thing I knew to do
was sing

I sang the old songs
the ones that lulled
my babies
to sleep

I sang
shaking voice
shaking heart
shaking sobs

Your brother slipped out
and you slept

You found me
in the morning
curled at the foot
of my own bed

Rather than wake you
I let you be
and found a place
where there was room

You felt so bad
And I thought, "Really?
You think it bothered me,
that flickering sleep?"

Rest is relative
and on that night
there were bigger needs
to be met

We unpacked your things
at boarding school
just a few days
later

And it was hard
But, honestly,
it was easier for the way
we passed that night

-lisa, 11 September, 2012

As You Go

It rained last night
unseasonal, but perfectly suited
a quiet, constant drizzle
like a mourning

A mourning last night
expected, but patently difficult
a grey grief misting
like a rain

And I may worry as you go
so many little things
when trying to feel
at home

So many big things
rising in a heart
very far from
what it knows

But I don't worry
about you
who you are or
who you will become

You live well
and shine
soft, clear
strong

We send you
in amazement
in confidence
and with tears

A joy last night
sure, if understandably muted
a calm, constant knowing
like all that is good

-lisa, 20 August, 2012

Still Life

A long quiet month.
Not for lack of things to ponder.  For an excess of things, actually.
An excess of big, chunky things that just needed hush.

When I was a girl, I loved to stand in the pulling tide.
First the water rushed-- pushing, pushing.
Suddenly, it could push no more.

There, at its height, everything went still for the skinniest slice of a very slim second.

With the reversal, my bare feet were unable to hold their ground.
Upright, yes.  But the ground beneath me ripped away, leaving little hollows in the places where my feet fell.

There are two departures coming up.
Certain as ebb and flood, I am unable to cause them not to happen.

Perhaps this last month has been lived in that shaving of time when water can neither advance nor fall away.

(I suppose that would be why I've found myself unable to speak or move.)

-lisa, 31 July, 2012

Saudade

When I say
I miss you

I do not
speak lightly

There have been
a hundred goodbyes

Perhaps
a thousand

I have boarded
a million planes

Or stood at
security gates

And waved
a billion waves

And then
I have

Moved
on

There is no moving on
from you

You are
here

Roots wound
firmly

Through
my heart

-lisa, 18 March, 2012