it is New Year’s Eve.
we have just driven twenty-three hours
unpacked for four
cleaned for two
groceried for one
slide that in with two head colds
three side servings of rejection
and we have upon our table
all the appetizers we will need
to tearfully accept
the new year that awaits
our eager appetite.
Riona
you tiptoe across carpet
in froggy footed pajamas
the small smile on your cheeks
as you wait for your turn
under the tree.
your sisters pick out gifts
easily identifiable
and we ask you what Santa
brought for little Riona.
you keep your small sweet smile
your eyes focused on a small box
of green marshmallow Peeps.
your little hands pick it up
and without a word you nod.
i hold back tears.
in five years i have instilled nothing
in the pure and grateful heart
you came into this world with
overlooking the bicycle next to the tree
for a candy you don’t even like
and i remember just why we are here.
Mythili
you won’t sleep on long drives
as your sisters snooze away
you play games with your dolls
tell stories about adventures with Mama
and make song requests.
you have lyrics memorized
to songs i didn’t even realize
the words to myself
your favorite this month?
“If I Had a Million Dollars”
to which every last non-singing note
spills from your lips
in a harmony of artistry
from the back seat of the van.
Isabella
she only loves you.
her almost-two hands push me away
with her classic dirty look.
she can’t say your name yet
but grins when you help her dress
take her to the potty
put food on her plate.
your almost-nine hands
are the perfect match
for your young cousin
and you proudly announce to the world
what an amazing child you are.
let me thank you
for reasons as pure
as the childhood we shared
(the one you’ve forgotten)
remember when we
ransacked the box of Twix late at night
and built the home
out of cabinet cardboard boxes
that we played in for three days
and wrote letters
every month
that we actually mailed?
i’ll try to remember these
when
1) i’m driving through the night
on New Year’s Eve
and
2) the next time i think
that you are a part of my family.
thank you for a refresher course
in lessons of gratitude.
i needed that so i could pull my girls tight
and remind myself
that i will never be you.
these hills snatch our strength
have an endless length
they take our breath away
give a lovely display
but kill us with steep
until hearts burn deep
he rests at the top
feels the need to stop
it’s a pretty sight
from which we’ll take flight
and gather cold in hands
giving in to demands
of all that is within us
outwardly we say yes
push until we’re dizzy
in a frenzied fury
at the end we’re amazed
and just a little dazed
the reward is so sweet
in his strong arms we meet
the warmth spreads through all
we’ve met our loving call.
here we are at a crossroads again
just where we thought we’d already been
if only emotions were a bit more easy
and what pleases you could also please me
but with extra hearts and extra souls
we’re looking for a new set of goals
one that will satisfy all of our needs
one that makes our blood flow and not bleed
we’re trapped inside this complex life
that is a mixture of joy and of strife
i hope one day from decisions we’ll learn
and move into smooth rather than burn.
i hope my words are not
lost in translation, but
instead carried on wings of gold
across the sea,
where my dreams can take flight,
my family will prosper,
and my linguistic yearning
will meld into realistic love.
your eyes are too tired for me
your heart too cold
to recognize the pain
that sits plainly on my palms
you respond with one word
Yeah
it may as well be a thousand
for you have taken my pieces
and stomped them into tiny bits
now i sit sleepless.
tomorrow my children
will suffer from my exhaustion
and all i can think is,
another strike against me
are you keeping score?
how can i be myself
how can you be yourself
how can we be ourselves
and still love each other?
sometimes i think
that none of this
(the lights on the tree
the beauty in their faces
the years behind us and before us)
means anything to you.
i search for lyrics
but they are all part of the same song
the one i sing on long drives,
that blares into my headphones
in storms of cycling,
that keeps me awake on the night
when the sun finally popped through
and glittered the Christmas tree.
do you hear the lyrics?
can you listen with me to the backbeat
the bass
the piano
the voices
that bring us together and tear us apart?
it is our song
how ironic that it carries
the same title as the chosen one
for our wedding day
the one the girls have memorized
the one of loss
just as much as of love
the one i play now
When You Say Nothing At All
the sun has set in cloudville, but
on the drive home the clouds clear,
a starlit sky to bring in Santa,
who sits up setting up a bicycle
and filling stockings with little girl joys.
the clock ticks on. he is
as silent as the sacred night
and i know (i know)
he will let my tears slide
into the passenger’s view
of the endless drive.
they awaken (not too early)
and my unassuming five-year-old
overlooks the bicycle beside the tree,
pointing instead, grateful grin and all,
to the green Christmas tree Peeps,
the simplest gift of gratitude
that i ache to gather in my arms.
(if i could love)
if i could have for one moment
the beautiful temperament
she came into the world with,
the sadness surrounding my heart
would melt away with the first bite
of overly sweetened marshmallow.
i haven’t seen the sun in seven days.
skeletal trees hold clouds in palms
and the curtainless window wakes me
my girls shuffle in sleep. i hear
sucking fingers and early-morning moans.
i stare at the sky, wait for blue
it is warm enough for a bike ride
(it almost always is) and i move along curves,
pedaling up and down the hills of the Smokies
these are the oldest mountains in the world,
but their early morning mist is gone by the time
i move into cooler-than-i-thought wind
i forgot my bolero but my hands in leather gloves
attempt to pulse hot blood through my veins.
i feel my atoms coming together (please make me warm)
it is Christmas Eve.
i haven’t seen the sun in seven days
and i can never, never, never be her.
over the hills and through the woods
we’ve driven as far as we’ll go
we walk the streets with icy hands
and dream of a Christmas with snow.
over the river and through the woods
to grandmother’s house we go
if only we could turn back the clock
and make this Christmas glow.
under the mist and through the rain
we don’t say what we know
that nothing is like the song we sing
and Christmas is filled with woe.
over the miles and through the night
we’ve left behind the snow
our Christmas is green with rain instead
and we wait for the love to flow.
