A Memorial Day poem

A thin sheet of ice melts in the spring uncovering an upheaval of wild currents. Churning and swirling, they grab and pull you down. Tears flood over the banks.  Calmness never returns, but an equilibrium is found within the maelstrom. 

A new world

A new world is forming around us.

Above us, falling about us like snow.

At times, you see the world you know past the snowfall.

Then you look down and see that the world has changed.

You think the world may never return to your memory’s version.

The fear and uncertainty clouds you into thinking this new world is a dream

A dream not worth remembering, not worth seeing.

A dream that is nonetheless something to be respected and obeyed.

At least until the dream of spring is no longer a dream.

Where the world of our memory returns.

Poem about Ani

Take the love from my heart,

shine a sunrise on it. 

There you’ll see my daughter. 

Greater than the expanse

of the night sky with its stars,

is her importance to me. 

Her love and spirituality humbles me,

that I should be her father. 

Whither my guilt Lord?

May it affect me in ways unknown?

Do I question myself in light of that guilt?

Do I express this unknowingly?

I’m sorry to those I hurt wrongly. 

Who knows all their demons. 

God only knows our unknown motivations. 

Whither my anxiety?

Is it strangely driven here?

What do I release to you?

What do I cling to wrongly?

Sir,

Yes, you, talking to your daughter between dance classes. 

Do you see how big you are in her eyes?

What if she couldn’t see you?

Do you notice her hanging on your words?

Do you notice her side of the conversation?

What if she couldn’t speak to you?

Do you know the impact of your attention on her?

What if she couldn’t dance?

What if she couldn’t respond?

From the little I’ve seen, your love wouldn’t change. 

What else goes with the unbearable sadness of losing a child?

An overwhelming fear. 

A fear of “What will I do?”

Where will I go?

How will I live?

A fear that amplifies the sorrow. 

The constant fear goes away faster than the feeling of loss. 

But it lurks forever. 

Waiting to strike. 

Making you look around in a panic. 

Making the sadness come back in a wave. 

A wave you never saw coming. 

A wave that washes you back to the event in a current you can’t fight. 

A current you just ride and try not to drown. 

As the metaphor of a current implies you get soaked, so are you soaked with fear for a time. 

Battling to return to normalcy. 

Your body rebels against me as I dress you.

Ani, I know that’s not you.
Your smile awakens to the sound of my “Good morning”.

Ani, I know that’s you.
Your awareness seems to dissipate into the air sometimes.

Ani, I know that’s not you.
I envy your total submission to the simple pleasure of a warm bath.
Ani, I know that’s you.
Precious is your image in my eyes.
Precious is your voice in my mind.
Precious is your presence in my heart.