For the Man I Saw Die Yesterday

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I’m sorry sending the angels was all I could do

as I knelt in the glass and mud.

Spring won’t come this year.

I didn’t see you until you almost

hit the back corner of my car, almost

took me with you, rolling, scraping, across concrete,

flipping, air dirt air dirt, glass, metal, tree –

almost –

I already knew before my car came to rest on the edge.

Smoke began to rise from your truck, and it was all

so close

so close you were to me, to the tree, to right side up and upside down,

to where you were going,

so close.  I asked them to be with you,

the angels,

when the other voices yelled, “Step back!”

And today what’s left of your almost –

a tire with a white cross and flowers,

but still,

an angel,

so close.

Ending Up Alone

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“I will end up alone he says,” and in the silent pause,

so many doors close. She collects the know before the feel,

cancels the gray-haired couple, arm-in-arm,

rocking late days on the porch of music. Promises

to stay, believe, carry him to night, those are blown away,

stripped like maples’ autumn color, disappear like summer

days. Perhaps he chose alone to spare her in some way.

Though the layer of fallen leaves and torn up plans weighs

deeply through her bones, she carries pieces of him with her.

He will never be alone.

Conversations (with Sylvia)

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(wake up) not asleep, but reading,

(write) she sits the edge of my bed,

tilts her head, waits. silence. (think it

to know). Sylvia, i am tired.

(the write will you), but how,

(ask the sky). and she stays,

to feel, asking cry (I know). pulls

what i push down (inside rain),

closing windows on day (tumble words),

and in sleep of dark, my name, cloud

whisper, pen gripped unwritten (Sylvia),

fly, write us both home (again). 

 

 

swan’s light

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and when she would glide,

remember her white and honest

she tucked beneath her wings,

a trail of glow bloomed beneath

her. float. shine, water angel,

collector of let go dreams, swim

in swirl of come true bright,

flashing believe, keeper of know,

angel wings save sinking hope,

swan’s heart throwing light.

a burden too great to bear

take it all back – the angel wings

and garden dreams, the light

i was meant to give. take the sunset souls

and voices echoed, flights through mountains

and paintings. take all of the answers i know

but don’t want, and people climbing into my mind.

and take back reading and feeling who they are,

healing and knowing too much.  move all those

who come to me at night, asking for comfort

and answers,  take speaking with my eyes

and hearing all the time, and carrying light

on a butterfly’s wing.  it’s too heavy to carry now.

no one is looking for light anymore.

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Once/Always

Once,

before I knew

that angels listened,

I ran frightened through dark

forests and forgotten towns.  I was

invisible, and silent, and screaming, and

alone.  Closing my eyes to sounds of pain, trying

not to hear visions of people shattering. It chased me,

followed me, lived my life.  And I spun broken, until another

lost soul opened up the light.  And the spinning me settled.

And listened. And watched.  Light drifted in, covered

darkness.  I saw songs, heard the glow rise.

And floating, soaring, feeling it all

in its fullness.  And they said to

find the broken ones,

and fix them

with light.

Always.

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