Rabbit Room day five: Neighbourhood

Sometimes it takes years
To get to know your neighbours

Passing each other every few days
Between shifts at work 

Maybe your children play outside
And occasionally play together

Or you have the barbeque going
And they drop by to see what’s cooking

Maybe one day they need your help
Or maybe you need theirs

The basement has flooded
Or there’s no babysitter

The new couch has arrived
And it’s so very heavy

It gets loud at night
And there’s no party

The dogs bark at everything
But you stop and talk anyway

Then you plant flowers in their yard
And water them daily

You bake cookies with open windows
And deliver a box to their door

You make your excuses
And say hello and hello and hello

Welcome to the neighbourhood
It’s a pleasure to meet you

Rabbit Room day four: Friends

and weren’t our hearts
burning within us?

walk with me

in the garden
for 300 years

tell me your secrets

sit with me here
next to the fire

we don’t need to speak

join me at the table
try some bread
olive oil, fish, wine

get some rest
I’ll be here tomorrow

Rabbit Room day three: Family

 
This is how a family shapes you.
Simply by being there,
just always being there.
Words that settle in the skin,
maybe forgiveness;
words of death and
words of life. Bursts
of laughter and silly dances,
flashes of anger and deep regret.
The times you couldn’t
afford anything but love,
and times of plenty
you took for granted.
Decisions made without
your approval, decisions made
with your voice as part of the choir,
decision made for you
as an unspoken blessing.
Sometimes you forget what
a many-splendored thing
a family is. Sometimes
it is a gift. Sometimes
it is not. You must decide
when to get your hands dirty.
Decide who’s the potter.
Decide who’s the clay.
 
*
 
Decide who’s the clay.
Decide who’s the potter –
when to get your hands dirty.
You must decide. It is not
sometimes, it is a gift.
A family is a many splendored thing.
Sometimes you forget.
It is an unspoken blessing,
a decision made for you,
your voice part of a choir.
A decision made without
your approval. You take for granted
times of plenty, times
you couldn’t afford anything more than love.
Bursts of laughter and dancing,
flashes of anger, deep regret.
Words of life.
Words of death.
Maybe: forgiveness.
Those words settle in the skin,
always just there.
Simply being there.
This is how a family shapes you.

Rabbit Room day two: Connection

Let me tell you about distance.
The emptiness of your mouth feeding
my mouth. Tasting your skin
but forgetting your name.
Wondering which words
will bridge the gap between
hope and sorrow, or regret
for all the said and unsaid
things. How to build
into each other. Which tools
to break or mend. And,
here, now, we negotiate
the terms. We entreat or we beg.
What can be offered.
What can be taken.

Rabbit Room day one: Invitation

you said you are welcome here
and maybe i was 

but there were suspicions
or i was suspicious
or maybe you were
or maybe i didn’t believe you
because there have been days
of sitting alone and longing
for someone to call my name
or nights spent alone
longing for someone
to call my name
and call it repeatedly
and call it until it is a mantra
an incantation
an oath
a promise to appear
in the doorway
perhaps with coffee
and croissants
or some flowers
maybe tulips or birds-of-paradise
or a hand extended
or my name on your lips