Saturday, May 31, 2014


guilt and shame for who she is, 
for what she does and cannot do;
denied a life promised by
a story already written

dark confusion seeps 
through matter: grey
the mirrors lie,
they have two legs,
herself she cannot see

not hidden
but extinguished,
the remnant aching
for a life allowed,
aloud; a loud. 

but kindest hearts belong
to the meekest of the earth,
are recompensed by her best gifts
(if neatly mended first)

yet what was taken
cannot be giv’n,
her healing is not quick
days are shorter than the journey
meaning n’er told

death grants what life cannot
suffering must cease
only when dry bone remains
will she have found her smile

Thursday, February 27, 2014


Ten years ago, today...

It's hard to remember how I felt when I woke up that morning. The memories are too entangled with my current feelings. I can say with certainty what I did not feel: nervous. That's what I remember most. I woke up smiling.

We had never met the man who would say the words. We sat, waiting on a lovely bench in a lovely hallway, all by ourselves. We held hands. We whispered. We laughed.

The man soon approached and greeted us warmly. I picture him with a cane, but that might just be how I want to remember him. We are sure that his ice-blue eyes had the tiniest pupils we had ever seen, a detail we discuss to this day. Another, is how magnificently theatrical he was when he spoke. He told us that we were 'not just getting married, but building an empire' (spoken in a voice that would make Sean Connery blush). He may have even raised his hand in a palm-up claw. It was perfect. He said other nice things too. I made sure to cry.

The rest of the day, we glowed. We celebrated. People photographed us. Our friends and family were all around us, wishing us well, eating with us, laughing with us, hugging us, saying nice things. And we were together. Nothing but love and laughter.

My heart, my solace, my best friend. Thank you for a decade of love and laughter.

Though the seasons change us,
my heart never will.

Thursday, January 09, 2014

Sins of Omission

Last night something happened that has been troubling me since.

I'm a little fuzzy on the details because I was half asleep, but at 4:30am Jacob woke up to a car in the parking lot below trying as it might to get unstuck from the snow. Jacob woke up Kim and by the time I woke up the whole family was in our bed listening to a struggling engine. From the bedroom window Kim could see that the car had become stuck blocking the passageway of our parking lot, and wondered if we could go down and help push. In my half-asleep state I thought she was just annoyed with being woken up, so I advised we turn up the fan and go back to bed, hoping they would soon stop, call a friend, or...I don't know. I just wanted to get back to sleep.

I finally woke up when Kim said that the car was on fire. I leapt out of bed and called 911 like a superhero. Dispatch told me that someone had already called and thanked me for calling and I hung up. As a family we watched this poor persons car go up in flames while I said things like, "oh my goodness"; "that sucks"; "I hope they have insurance"; and, "wouldn't it be great if it belongs to the people who stole our package?"

In the end, the car fire popped and sputtered but failed to explode in the way that Hollywood led me to believe it should. We watched, took pictures, and regretted that we hadn't intervened before catastrophe struck.

I guess I'm trying to alleviate some of the guilt I feel for not holding myself to the standard that I aspire to. Calling 911 was literally the least I could have done other than doing nothing, which in the end is what my effort contributed. It was -13º F last night (real feel -35º F) but I had warm enough clothes, I could have helped and the effort likely would have cost me 5 minutes and the sleep I was already destined to lose; yet the effect of that effort would certainly have changed this person's morning and quite possibly their long term financial situation depending on what this ends up costing her.

I would like to be the kind of person that dashes to the aid of others. I'm ashamed of how much I considered my own comfort while hoping that the problem (MY problem, as I was experiencing it) would be resolved quickly so I could get back to sleep. I'm worried that my "good heart" is just a concept, but when faced with a moment to exercise it I am not up to the task.