Christmas Season
Christmas music wafts
in from the living room—it’s
the best time of year.
Christmas with Children
They tear through presents,
shriek, play, clap—and another
Christmas flashes past.
Present
Today I try to
notice everything about
them, watching, loving.
These are excerpts from Life: a definition of terms, a book of haiku poetry. For more of Rachel’s poems, visit her Reader Library page, where you can get a couple of volumes for free.
I stood on a hill,
a dandelion in my hand.
The wind lifted
the first feathery petals
from the stem,
and for a moment,
they stared at me,
my wishes twirling
on air.
I released
the rest of them,
sent my white wishes
wherever it is
wishes go.
Survivor
So it wasn’t the
day you expected at all.
You’re a survivor.
Love
Love can steal across
a life and complete the one
for whom it has come.
Measure
What is the measure
of a life? To live on in
others we have loved.
These are excerpts from Life: a definition of terms, a book of haiku poetry. For more of Rachel’s poems, visit her Reader Library page, where you can get a couple of volumes for free.
How to Be a Man
don’t cry
don’t feel
don’t talk
don’t give
your heart away
completely
don’t serve
your family
but lead with
authority
power
force
shut up
lock away
never be free
completely
make money
forget those old dreams
now there is
responsibility
grow up
suck it up
just do what
everyone expects
pretend hide forget
completely
this is how
to be a man
How to Really Be a Man
open up
let us in
we want to see you
cry when you need
don’t hide
think for yourself
feel what you feel
know what you know
be who you want to be
even when it’s not
who they want
you to be
live true
live free
live whole
forget all the success
and rules
and conventions
and lead a family
into a new
definition of success
this is how
to really be a man
This is an excerpt from This is How You Know: a book of poetry. For more poetry, visit my starter library, where you can get some for free.
It was not the walk in the park,
where you lined a path with candles
and your best friend hid in the bushes
and you opened a box,
that shifted my life line.
It was what happened after,
in the evening our day,
with all its enchanted
asking and answering,
could not have written.
You called everyone on your side,
and I called my one, and then you
took the camera from Tray
and sent him on his way.
You climbed in your car,
I climbed in mine,
and I followed you
back toward home.
So I watched it happen,
saw the way the light
flashed white and then red
and then inky black
and hard around the edges,
just like the night my father
stopped breathing.
I heard the metal on metal
and I saw the pieces,
and I knew there was
no way you survived.
Still I slammed the brakes
and slid from the road
and jumped out while the car moved,
and I raced to that wreckage
on legs that shouted it for me.
Please be alive.
Please be alive.
Please be alive.
Tray beat me to you,
and he was crying.
Tray was crying.
I had never, ever, ever
seen him cry.
I’m sorry, Maggie.
I’m so sorry.
Over and over
and over again,
like your crash
was somehow
his doing.
There you were,
pinned under steel.
Blood leaked everywhere,
in the creases between
my fingers holding yours
and in a scarlet flood
across my shirt, where
your head rested,
and down a roadside drain.
But I didn’t care that I was
stained by you, because
you were my angel,
my darling,
my beloved,
and I could not
leave you while
your eyes still
held life.
And then you fell asleep
and those sirens screamed
and they pushed me aside.
Flashing lights carried
you away from me,
but a siren still screamed,
long and loud and lamenting.
You fell asleep.
You fell asleep.
You fell asleep,
and I do not know
if you will ever
wake.
This is an excerpt from The Lovely After. Visit my Reader Library page, where you can get it and a couple of volumes for free.
Beneath a red umbrella,
she walks the
streets of her city,
clad in black,
the color of mourning.
She’s not mourning,
she’s unfolding.
There has been a death, yes,
but the grief of it
is not oppressive.
It is deliverance.
The wind blows.
She closes her eyes.
