The Road

The road is bumpy,

Full of potholes and misdirection.

It is understandable to become discouraged,

To lose your way,

To not want to ask for directions anymore.

But the path reveals us,

Allows the possibility for change,

To a new course.

One that starts with love and compassion for ourselves,

To stand under the new moon and feel reborn,

Open to the great aliveness that waits before us.

Missing you

I am already missing you.

Your singing and laughter,

Your innate creativity and playfulness,

Your ability to wonder at the world.

Your boundless heart,

Your relentless determination to be the best version of yourself,

To care for others, for social justice,

Your discernment and intellect.

Your deep and abiding commitment to friends

And family.

I think all parents hope their children

Will be better than than they are,

But I already know that you are completely yourself.

And I am so very grateful to be your mother.


I lay in naked wonder,

At how the fractures in my sometimes troubled relationships,

Have been repeatedly healed with love.

At how I have sometimes limited my grief,

Afraid of it’s unknown depths.

At the comfort fellow creatures of paw and hoof,

Have offered unconditionally.

At the awe of each precious unfolding moment,

Gone before my trembling hand can grasp it,

All the more a treasure as the energy of the universe,

Enfolds and flows through us all in the midst

Of tenderness, violence, ease and discomfort.

Implacable in moving on and on and on….

Finding you

I dream of finding you,

Lost to the riptide of time,

And circumstance.

My dear one, my son,

Who brightened everyday with your smile,

Your laugh,

Our shared tears.

It is no wonder I cannot sleep,

Still hear the relentless pulse of the monitor,

Still on guard,

Always on guard,

For what could go wrong,

For the call to 911,

The interventions,

The trauma to your fragile body,

In order to save your life,

Held by the most slender thread,

Of love and vigilance.

I could never measure up to the task,

Yet you loved me anyway.

By some miracle, some grace,

Our lives entwined to make something more,

More than I could have ever imagined,

More than a human life could hope for,

More than I can ever repay.

More than we can bear

What is more than we can bear?

For we have no choice but to go on.

Trauma, violence, loss.

Holocaust, genocide;

and yet we must live.

With horrible truths,

More horrible than we should experience.

Each loss is still a loss.

Each heartbreak, still the raw and tender

ground of being.

I don’t know, don’t understand,

But those who transcend it,

Who find some meaning or truth,

Are better than I, who still dreams

Of my lost one returning to me.

Of the palpable joy of his scent, his physical presence.

What evolutionary advantage could this possibly confer,

To live with absence,

With knowing our frailty and our strength,

The incessant beat of a heart,

That cannot stop loving,

Cannot divorce the feeling of a life moving within,

With the reality that it is no more.

Darling daughter

I’ve thought and thought,

Trying to find words for the ineffable.

I don’t hold with deities

And yet, I pause, when thoughts of you

Come to my mind,

Because goddess, you are.

Simply and without pretension.

Living things,

Spring forth at your glance.

Knights and kings would throw themselves at your feet.

Just for being, for breathing,

Dearest one. Heart of my heart.

My Annie.

%d bloggers like this: