Poetry journal, 1993

Where are you tonight?
I see you sitting on the low-backed blue
sofa only a cat could
love
complaining about me and discussing
Jung and astrology in the same
breath
I see you you are so unknowable
I hate one person more and that is
myself.

Hidden hope

She has a memory.  One beautiful memory.  Carefully held in the palm of her hands, so that no one else might find it and steal it.  She must leave it nowhere.  It must always remain with her.  The memory of that one summer morning, while they still slept.  The pavement of the driveway cool on her bare feet as she stepped into the shadow cast by the huge Mountain Ash in the front yard, the sun burning golden at the edges.  No one must have this moment.  This moment must never be touched.

No going back

Back in her room, Josie opened her jewellery box and allowed herself to gaze at the bracelet the King had given her.  For months she’d worn it every day, hoping the marble would glow again.  It never did.  The day she had taken it off she’d cried for hours.

Now, here in her dorm room, there was still sadness, tinged with the kind of loss she had hoped she’d never know again.  But as Josie closed the jewellery box, she heard girls giggling down the hallway; she thought about Shruti, who she was meeting for dinner in the cafeteria; and of her classes that began next week.  She could only hope her new life would help her put the old one to rest once and for all.  

Poetry journal, March 1999

Because my faith is an icicle
dripping and flirting with
the front steps
knowing that with just
one snap it could
pierce the chest
end the need to believe
forever

Unseen

...blinded by a million sparkling dreams

                snowflakes falling into infinity...

Essay, 1985

At one time or another, everyone feels a regret or hurt that they hold deep down inside until it nearly crushes them.  By the time it reaches the critical point, though, the person himself has to let it go.  They may never be totally forgiven for what they once did, but complete absolution is rare.  To release the pain, we first must realize that we are holding it inside.  Many people deny this until it hits them like a sudden storm.

Acceptance

      “You tried to kill me,” Josie said, and she could tell that she had the Minister’s complete attention now; it was as if he had become deaf to the sounds of battle around them.  In some ways she felt deaf to them, too, but Josie was no fool—she knew exactly what her grandfather was.  Yet at the same time she understood what he had gone through.  He was no monster.  He was just a man, made bitter and cold by the tragedies of life.  The day her father stepped through the Last Window, he had put into motion a chain of events he never could have anticipated—and he had caused those who loved him unbelievable pain.  That sort of pain Josie had seen in herself, along with her mother and Jack.  In the face of such agony even good people could stumble.  For that reason, Josie said quietly, “I forgive you.”