the hours

today the hours are thick, my tongue foggy.

words flow like molasses, or tar, stuck on my teeth.

i would chase after them but they have nowhere to go;

they won’t get far in this lazied moment

without direction, a misallocation of effort.

i hoped they would run wildly skeltered without a leash

but they sniff the air, turn in circles, and drop to the floor.

i thought if i took a walk it would help clear my mind

but i walked too far; it took too long –

now i’m too tired to think of playing fetch,

grooming your coat, speaking discipline or encouragement.

i don’t even care if you hop on the couch unannounced,

though i suppose that would be fine, and we’d fall asleep and dream.

anamnesis

it’s been such a long day 
this week     everything changes 
so quickly we forget 
how it feels to smile at strangers 
say hello in elevators     ask 
how is your day?     and 
is this too small?     it isn’t 
enough walking outside 
we find the loneliest places 
to wander as families     as couples 
or whatever human unit fits 
still the turned faces     all eyes 
suspicious or perhaps fearful 
faces now     rarely full 
of hope     we hear little 
conversations circle around fear 
this little thing eats at the edges  
of every good thing     a shared meal 
the laughter of friends 
the excitement of your lover 
a song that that makes you want to dance 
even if you’re not     a good dancer 
lose yourself     in this body 
given to you     and all of us 
in blessed remembrance

details

i too often fail 
to pay attention 

there are too many distractions 
so much to do 

but i’m getting better at resting 
the trick is one of balance 
 
the way one places their feet 
just so 

i know only to make 
myself available 

i just keep walking 
i rehearse the words 

try to remember how it felt
when you touched me 

make note of when the season changes 
the quality of light 

the shift in birdsong 
the way the air moves 

i forget how little changes 
and how much 

how often i discover 
beauty when I least expect it 

how beauty is a gift 
my hands sift 

i miss being awake 
late at night 

i miss when everything was 
less insistent 

i want to be asleep 
before the storm comes

bright monday

let’s take this outside 

keep the singing going 

repeat the songs 

wave the flags 

throw the flowers 

take the day 

take two days 

take the week 

repeat the songs 

invite someone 

join the dance 

wave your arms 

stomp your feet 

raise joyous shouts 

open your eyes 

everything is singing 

repeat the songs

easter sunday

you never asked 
us to do this
you only asked 
we break bread 

we hold the vigils 
we fill the baskets 
with eggs 
we buy lilies 
because of 
the beauty 
 
this moment 
that is only 
a moment 

now we take 
the next steps: 
the tomb is empty, 
He is risen! 
echoes mouth to mouth 
everywhere we go 
we keep meeting you 
in gardens
                 on the road
                                    in our rooms 
sharing meals 

you bring us up to the mountain 
and leave us 
to walk back down alone 

you make us promises 
and we wrap ourselves inside them 
until they become our skin