We Spark

We spark...

You, fire-bright

And strong

Me, muted, cool

We spark...

You, pressing, questioning

And sharp

Me, pondering, hushed

We spark...

You, eager, hungry

And impatient

Me, reflective, shy and musing

We spark...

And honestly

I don’t recognize much of me

In the lovely fiery power of you

We spark...

It’s true

And how I miss 

The gleaming flame 

The arcing light

The blazing ray


How I miss

The kindled current

White and hot

Between us two


-lisa, 4 September 2013

 

Life Breath

I thought the years had stripped too much away
that i would never gather that which had been
so casually scattered

It was my fault, I know
packing as if we could take what mattered
along with us

As if...

It was so long ago, that initial parting
and the flood of time
washed so much away

I missed the marker days
the seemingly small but, in actuality,
momentous occasions

You don't get those back, you know
they don't return to you
ever

But then, in just these last weeks
these un-trumpeted
unassuming days

There has been a feasting
every dear face before me
shining

Inhaling slowly
pulling each fragrance
as close to my heart as possible

I breathed your company
all of you, the greatest of
my loves

And now
from across so many miles
these memories enrich my blood

-lisa, 7 June 2013

Traveling Mercies

And so we take the grace
hold it near like a mask
and breathe

It never seems to matter
how deep or rich or joyful
the time was

When the parting comes
it winds us

The room is stripped
She looks bare but for
the heavy bags packed and closed

What looks so neat and welcoming when we arrive
looks forlorn as we consolidate
and prepare to fly

Grace, then

Grace for the tears
on your shoulder
as I lay my head there

Grace for the
loud void our absence
will create

Grace for the journey
cramped and long
and weary-making

Grace for the transition
to the strange and familiar
of life on that side

Grace for the longing
we will feel
to be near you

Grace for the demands
Africa will be sure
to make

Grace, then

Grace
grace
grace

-lisa, 28 December, 2012

Curator

Curator--
a keeper, trustee, guardian, conservator.

If I am, then,
to care for these feelings
I suppose it's best
to give them voice
if only
to myself

I sing them
in muted tones
gray, soft, rising
with breath
barely drawn
then held

And this dear earth
receives them
Pulls me in
to her breast
and whispers
hush

Her word
is not
reproof
Rather, it says
I know
I know

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

Close (a poem)

When you were small
and something was amiss
I would hold you

Sweet salty smell
the top of your warm head
tucked neatly under my chin

You might remain there
only minutes before
the world settled again

(and off you'd go)

Tonight you're too far away
and too grown up
to wander in, pad-foot clad in jammies

But you walk into my thoughts
and wake me
just the same

In the quiet after
a welcome rain
I open my eyes and pray

This is how
I hold you
now

-lisa, 1 October, 2011

a few of you, so far away

if i could choose
i would not be this far
from you

the way your eyes light
and your laugh
spills out

there are days
when it makes sense
some how

the long flights
the enormous cost
the loss

i'm afraid, though, that
today is not among
those days