This past week, I had the wonderful experience of hearing Ross Gay talk about his new book, Inciting Joy: Essays. Now, I am devouring the book itself, immersing myself in his inspirational thinking. This reading led me to a bit of joyful poetry writing…
Talking About Joy
according to Ross Gay
poet essayist thinker writer
joy is discovered through
entanglement
it is fundamentally intertwined with connection
belonging to
something other than yourself
something bigger than yourself
something where more than you is at the core
yet, he says
together
we will hurt one another
we will have sorrow
perhaps his point is
to open ourselves to others
means sorrow and joy
means messy
****
he reminds us to hold this truth:
people create beautiful robust lives
in the midst of
oppressive
intolerable
painful conditions
joy is in the seams
I love that: joy is in the seams
****
the next morning
after I heard his wisdom
we decided to go
the ‘regular’ way
thinking our early morning start
was before the construction
the painful development of our local ‘purple line’
(we were wrong)
our local street is now code for
one merciless intersection after another
block by block
road closure
single lane advance
one at a time
a horrible driving experience
there was
an anonymous apathetic impassive worker
holding a stop sign
WAIT
WAIT
WAIT
all traffic slowed in a long queue
then we saw
on the embankment to our left
seven construction workers
in their bright yellow vests
standing together
in a circle
yes, really truly honestly
I counted the workers
grouped in a circle
they each swayed and swirled their hips
laughing rocking moving
in unison
then they paused
and began alternate twist toe touches
all at the same time
as if rehearsed
choreographed exercise
to start the day
typically stern faces
nonexistent
I breathed in their delight
smiled deeply
feeling anew
I need to
pay more attention
to the beauty
of this world.
This has been my fun problem over recent days. Our remodeling is 95% done, with only a smattering of small tasks – the infamous ‘punch list’ – remaining. I have tried to be slow and patient in my arrangement of the new space, so that everything is placed in the most functional and efficient location. Sometimes, I admit, this thinking and planning goes on too long – I am simply paralyzed. (What’s that work expression – ‘paralysis by analysis’?) My spices, for example, are in shoeboxes in the front room of the house, where I have had them since the remodeling began – I am thinking too long and too hard about where they would best be placed.
The work of setting up my new kitchen took one giant step forward this past weekend when I decided to bake a cake for a small backyard gathering at a neighbor’s house.
Here ensued my remodeling/new kitchen version of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie –
If you decide to make a cake,
you will remember your dear neighbor Leta and her yummy pumpkin cake…
you will search for the recipeyou will hold it in your hands see her handwritingremember, remember, rememberhow Leta and Joe would be outside early morning when it snowedshoveling our shared drivewaymy goodness, they were shoveling into their 80soh, how she tended to her garden divided up plants in the autumnshared them with ushow they loved our boyshow kind and generous they weresuch great neighbors it seems like just yesterdaythough it has been more than fifteen years since they lived next door
Then you’d know, YES, you have to make THIS cake.
When you decide to make this cake, you are going to need to find your mixer…
which means you’ll have to go up in the attic crawl space work your way through box after box things stored for the past many monthswhich means you have to change clothesput on your grubbiest onesbecause you will be walking on your kneesand while you are in thereyou need to make sure you don’t open any of the memory boxes you will start reading and devouring and never leave the attic crawl space time’s a wastin’ so stay focusedplease be sure to watch your head you don’t need to smack yourself on the low ceiling.
Even though you promise to stay focused, you will find so many other treasures that you really should bring downstairs, too …
there’s the rest of your plates and bowls
oh my, more drinking glasses
yes, let’s bring these down
wash them up while the cake is cooking
don’t forget the mixing bowls
measuring cups
stirring spoonsmore
Gather all these treasures …
you will make countless trips
up the stairs and down the stairs
alternating between standing and crawling and
bending like Houdini
you will decide that this is your exercise for the day
you will feel tired
though
you haven’t even started to bake the cake
or wash any of the items
and as you begin to bake and wash…
you will collect dry ingredients from the front room
where they’ve been stored since the remodeling began
you will realize that you shouldn’t put them back there
it is high time
to put them
on shelves, in drawers, in cabinets
which means
you should measure and cut the shelf liners
you bought earlier in the week
As you begin to measure and cut the shelf liners …
you will see
your neat, sterile, brand new kitchen
now covered in a melee of things
the flour and sugar
the bowls and mixer
the scissors and liner
there is barely a free spot and
it is awesome
to be here all by yourself
singing
planning
moving
creating
playing
When the cake is mixed, you will realize you never retrieved the bundt pan…
which is in that darn attic crawl space
so there you are again
bending crawling finding
up and down those stairs
washing drying oiling the pan
pouring in the batter
the oven will be preheated
the cake will begin to cook
the kitchen will smell like autumn
you will smile
as you work to corral
all that still needs to be done
in that busy new kitchen
and see
you have everything you need to set up a baking corner
As the cake is cooking, you will realize in horror that you don’t have the cooling rack…
…so it is back up those stairs one more time…
…into the dark crawl space…
and finally, finally, finally, you don’t need to go up there anymore today. Though, there are more things you’d like to bring down for your kitchen. No, not today…you have made giant strides in setting things up in the new space, and you can leave the rest for other days.
When the cake is cool, you will frost it and slice it …
remembering to make
a special plate for the fabulous neighbors
who now live in “Leta and Joe’s house"
so that they might savor
a bit of
this neighborhood memory and magic.
you’ll bring the rest to the backyard party
everyone will share their memories
your heart will be full
If you decide to make a cake…
It's Tuesday and I'm participating in the Slice of Life.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers,
for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
As soon as Mom and big sister Frog leave for school, little Bird rushes to her sister’s bedroom and takes possession of Frog’s favorite stuffed animal, a toy deer. This toy is basically off-limits whenever her big sister is around, but ‘when the Frog’s away, the Bird will play.’ I’m impressed that Bird has created this routine, recognizing that school days are the best time to play with Frog’s dolls and toys.
I haven’t shared anything about the grandkids in quite some time, so I thought this would be a fun topic for today’s slice. Let me see if I can find a few fun photos, too (without sacrificing the children’s privacy).
Here, Poppa and the girls make biscuits together.
Frog started preschool in August, leaving Bird in the care of her grandparents. (Both sets of grandparents share childcare, on different days of the week). Two year old Bird is getting lots of focused and loving one-on-one attention, and in these few weeks, we are all noticing a language explosion. To date, Bird hasn’t been as verbal as Frog, speaking primarily in one word utterances and relying primarily on nonverbal pointing and grunting. I credit her older sister with this…I mean, if Frog is speaking for you, why do you have to speak at all? Bird comprehends everything we are saying; she simply doesn’t try to talk – silence has been the path of least resistance. Now, however, with Frog away all day, five days a week, using her own voice has come in very handy. Bird’s language is truly blossoming.
For Bird, her sister’s toy deer reigns supreme. She loves to carry it throughout the house while Frog is at school, letting it keep her company as she plays with other toys and activities. Most days, she won’t be separated from it. She even likes me to perch the deer nearby to ‘watch her’ when she eats her meals. (We have to keep deer clean/away from the food, yes?)
Here, a full menagerie joins us from a distance, to watch Bird eat lunch, lol.
In my very best Julie Andrews imitation, I started singing Doe a Deer as she carried that little toy around, and now we sing this all day long. I honestly think this one song has been the key to her stringing more than one word together, she loves this song so much. When I arrive in the morning, Bird now greets me with the words ‘doe a deer, Nana,’ and that’s my cue to start singing. Bird has learned every word of the song and sings along. She sings this to herself, too, and all of us are trying to capture a recording, but so far we have failed. Her singing is precious.
Our own house is in the midst of remodeling, so we come to Frog and Bird’s house to babysit rather than vice versa. It’s been eye-opening to see the children in their own world, becoming more familiar with their most favorite activities and where they like to spend their time. We have been having lots of fun together. Before Bird goes down for her midday nap, we always take time to put things back the way they were in Frog’s room, tidying the room to be welcoming for her when she comes home, and laying deer on Frog’s bed to greet her.
Bird has her own favorite lovey, a chipmunk. Here, she feeds him acorns.
When she gets home from school, Frog needs a little bit of time to herself in her room (“quiet alone time”) and then we all have good fun together. The current favorite activities are dance parties, playdough, playing outside, building with Legos, and coloring.
I’m so glad I know how to make homemade playdough!
That’s all for today, except to say – we are truly blessed by these little dears! (pun intended)
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
Early in the morning, this past Friday, I woke up so alert and I replayed every second of the day before – when my parents were buried at Arlington Cemetery. I ended up writing eight (8!) pages in my journal, as I tried to decompress. Let me share a poem about my wakeful thinking and this special day.
waking recollections
in dark of night
clarity
rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment
every caring conversation
every tender touch
letting me
embrace these again
thoughts gather like an old engine warming up
sputtering spewing spitting
so many different directions
all at once
there we were at Arlington Cemetery
the day bright and clear
my four brothers and I
loving family and friends
to bury Dad and Mom
so many faces I had not seen
in years
new babies to meet
hugs kisses squeezes
waking recollections
in the dark of night
remember the waiting room -
just my brothers and I
the military escort
explaining logistics
how the procession works
my eyes fixating on boxes of tissue
the realization
this room held pain grief tragedy
young military lives lost
whereas we were here to honor
lives lived fully and long
outside in the parking lot
little ones danced and squealed
stories chuckles whispers shared
such a glorious day
my cousins, aunts, uncles
my parents’ cousins, too
so many friends from long ago
neighbors and colleagues
everyone here together
supporting us
the military service -
we walked behind the caisson
cannons fired from the hill
the honor guard in rapt attention
band marching, playing Taps
rifles fired in a 21 gun salute
while eight sailors held the flag
so reverently
over my parents’ urns
turning, folding, respecting
that moment -
the officer
handed the flag to me
saying
on behalf of the President of the United States
the United States Navy and
a grateful nation
please accept this flag
as a symbol of our appreciation for
your loved one’s
honorable and faithful service
he looked right at me as he spoke
and his eyes watered
leaving my eyes
his mirror
their resting place -
now they are nestled together
on the hill
under the tree
overlooking the cemetery
their great grandchildren play among the headstones
a fabulous celebration followed
in the officers’ club
like so many days long ago
it feels so ‘once upon a time’
those early years
when base life was my daily life
so much has changed
then and now
waking recollections
in the dark of night
remember we arrived early -
before the burial
and set everything up
the guard at the base gate
spoke with an accent
our armed forces, so diverse
the room came alive -
sweet memorabilia on the table
slideshow through the years
stories shared at the mic
spontaneous laughter and tears
so many conversations
so many relationships
intersecting
he tells me he was head of security
remembers me as a teenager
she tells me she’s my father’s cousin
and I am just like my mother
they tell me they are longtime friends
from my brother’s church
remember, too -
oh yes yes yes
she would love to have
her grandparents' china
what a story -
the coincidence of parking
next to them after so long estranged
the unopened letter now in their hands
and hope to heal this family hurt
remember how -
the room became so quiet
when I shared my poem
in the middle of the night
I am overflowing
let me sit with this word - recollection
let me hold in my heart
look closely at its middle: the word ‘collect’
we collect what we love, yes?
to re-collect
is to savor these treasures again
to use one’s thoughts
to gather these love moments again
to sift through them
like treasures on a beach
holding the best ones very close
waking recollections
in dark of night
clarity rushes through my mind’s door
holding
every memorable moment
every caring conversation
every tender touch
letting me
embrace these again
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
Chris Margocs’ inspirational prompt for this Spiritual Thursday is to write about (or is the word ‘towards’?) those who have passed and left something behind in our hearts.
Oh my, this writing prompt could not be more appropriate for this day.
You see -
my father,
a Rear Admiral in the U.S. Navy,
died two years ago,
at the end of the first summer of this pandemic.
Today, October 6, 2022,
he is being interred at Arlington Cemetery, in Washington, D.C.,
in a joint ceremony, with my mother alongside him;
my mother preceded him in death some four years ago.
Our family has waited a long time for this precious day.
This passage of time makes it easier to talk and share about them. Time has healing powers through its ability to vary the lens on the past, to let one reflect in different ways and to be surprised by memories in unexpected moments. I marvel at how grief and time have combined to make memories of events for which I was not present, causing me to think deeply about my parents’ childhoods, their marriage, on and on. It is truly a blessing to have so many memories – the gift of time.
As my family and I prepared for this special day – this celebration of my parents’ lives – I kept coming back to this one photo, a photo taken on their wedding day, in June, 1954. They were married at the Naval Academy, right after Dad graduated. Let me share the photo here –
My parents were married 64 years before Mom passed. This photo from their wedding day simply makes me smile. It is a treasure to have. Today, at the funeral reception, I am going to celebrate my parents with a short poem about this photo. Let me share it with you here, now.
Just look at this photo -
the twinkle in their eyes
the happy clench of their hands
the gentle lean of their heads
captivating looks
captured for the ages
this is love at the launch
when fair winds beckon
before two souls set for sea
no storms in sight
what if
this very moment of buoyancy
is what holds
all the power and force
to maneuver through rough waters ahead
a love anchor
stored on the underside of marriage’s hull
at the ready
throughout
what if
this is our finding
this is the knowledge gained
from their sea trial?
the wonder of
meeting one another’s eyes
holding the gaze and smiling
such a simple joy
to return to
again and again and again
whether spoken unspoken
love heals
love hopes
love holds
love always
always love
the whole of time
just look at this photo . . .
On the first Thursday of each month, writers share their thoughts on spiritual topics. Each month, a different host selects the instigation.
This is a very exciting week around here. On Thursday, my parents will be interred at Arlington Cemetery. We have waited a long time for this precious day. Dad died two years ago, in early September, in the midst of the pandemic; Mom preceded him in death, dying in October of 2018. Dad was a Navy Admiral, and Arlington Cemetery is his chosen destination.
I live in the D.C. area and have visited Arlington Cemetery several times, but I have never witnessed someone’s burial. We have tons of family and friends coming from out of town, to be present at this unique and special honor.
So, that’s what is “front and center.”
Let me tell you about our staging…about the background scenery…about the “side plots.” Simply put, we’re in the midst of major renovation, here at our home. After almost a full year of discovering, evaluating, and planning fixes for the structural problems of our home, we began construction repairs on August 1st. This involved a total ‘gutting’ of our kitchen. I was not naive about the timing – I knew immediately that the work was so enormous, I should not trust that it would be completed by the time of my parents’ burial. Thankfully, one of my brothers lives in the D.C. area as well, and he was totally fine with taking the lead on all “hosting” duties. We could focus on getting the home repairs that were needed.
This week, we’ve put a moratorium on the kitchen/family room remodeling for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday – there is simply too much going on with all our visitors (none of whom are staying here at my house, thank goodness, lol). I want to focus on my family, I want to be fully present at the service for my parents, I want to savor all the remembrances.
Months back, before the work began, I smiled at my contractor’s response when I shared this ‘calendar of events’ with him; he assured me that there would be no problem – they’d be done mid-September.
The work began August 1stInstallation of a steel beam across the room was the most grueling and essential part of the remodeling.
It is an enormous effort, this remodeling; there have been support posts, a steel beam, roof issues, you name it. As the work continued (at a very good pace, honestly), there have been a few setbacks and surprises in the work to be done (isn’t this always the truth, with a home remodeling effort?). Upon several delays, my contractor updated his timeline, saying they’d be done on the last day of September (this past Friday).
All I can say: I am so thankful I have never counted on the work being done this week. There will be NO company at this house! lol
Although it was painful to learn we had structural issues with our home, the beam opened up the kitchen space beautifully.Look how bright and open the kitchen space became!
As I write, I am sitting at the island/bar of my dream kitchen – beautiful cabinets, counters, floor…let me show you…
I love the natural light from all the windows. I love all the space. I especially love the quartz countertops, having only had laminate counters before.
Unfortunately, my kitchen is basically akin to one you might find on display in a showroom – it looks great but it is not functioning. We’re close, we just aren’t quite there yet.
Yes, we have a faucet, but there is no running water at the sink. All the appliances remain in the living room, not hooked up. All of the drawers along one wall of cabinetry don’t open – which reminds me, when is a drawer not a drawer? When the contractor forgets to order drawer inserts and you must wait for these at a later date. There are endless ‘to do’s’ on a ‘punch list’ – all the little things that get pushed aside while something bigger gets done. Oh, and the guys are struggling to install a new (main) door to the house; it is missing its locking mechanism and we’ve been blockading the door at night for more than a week, to feel ‘safer.’
This past Friday, my contractor assured me that he’d be done today – yes, today, Tuesday. October 4th. C’mon, be serious! There is simply no way! Look at all that still needs doing.
Honestly, I am fine with this. I assured him:
Work at a pace where the work is completed well.
Take all the time you need.
Just don’t show up tomorrow. Or Thursday. Or Friday.
We look forward to seeing you on Monday.
Truth – it already ‘feels’ like I have a new kitchen. It is a great space to sit and write – and it is very quiet, before the workers arrive.
All will be well.
To the day! To the week ahead!
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
What is the monarch chrysalis up to, at this very moment? What’s happening inside here? From my perspective, chrysalises are very quiet. Of course, noise tolerance varies from being to being. Perhaps within the chrysalis, they are packing and moving metaphoric boxes, cleaning and scrubbing surfaces, using special tools to prepare for what is to come?
We are tightly bound in a metaphoric chrysalis these days, wrapped up in just two small rooms on the first floor with limited access to two additional small rooms on the floor above. Our remodeling proceeds at a strong pace, with a solid beam in place across the kitchen and family room (“great room”), new flooring and cabinetry in place, and the plan for new countertops to be installed tomorrow. The end is in sight. We will burst forth into new beautiful living in the very near future.
Yes, and.
I’m feeling edgy, confined, depleted. Trying to keep my heart and hope on the end goal. Washing blueberries in the bathroom gets relentlessly old. Maneuvering around non-working appliances in the living room, wiping dust from surfaces, negotiating plastic-wrapped doorways, yes, it’s reaching a frustrating crescendo. Our stress was all the more heightened when Tony had COVID a few weeks back, leaving us each relegated to two very small and separate places in this chrysalis of a house. I have to remind myself to breathe, stay present, know that good work is being done, and all will be well. Our structural issues have been repaired. We will have a beautiful space in the end. Breathe.
I had a dear and painful conversation with an elderly friend the other day. She and her husband are moving into senior living, a transition deemed long overdue by their children but one that has been so challenging for the two of them to accept. In the midst of her downsizing work, she told me, “I am living through hell.” I tried to comfort, to reassure – yes, the shift itself is dreadful, but there would be comfort and ease in the end. It would be fine. It would be beautiful.
I hope I soothed her – but what good are soft platitudes, really, in the midst of the exhaustion and loss of such transitions?
Is it possible that some similar stress happens within a chrysalis?
Monarchs and their gorgeous journeys are just outside my house, in a small flower bed I have squeezed in between the porch and the driveway. I have been planting this little bed for years, welcoming butterflies and bees and birds and bugs – and allowing me to fawn over all the beings from our porch. I plant a variety of perennials and annuals, lots of happy flowering plants, and I make changes to the bed from year to year. The milkweed was “a volunteer” I uprooted from the edge of my front yard along the road two years ago, and I crossed my fingers that it would flourish in the little flower bed. The milkweed is SO happy in this location.
Up close and personal like this, I have realized why my neighbor told me to move it to someplace less visible – it is a homely plant, the milkweed. It is not wispy and delicate and covered in flowers. It is large and clumsy. I never thought through its wild lifestyle, how tall and floppy it would grow, how it would fall over and try to nudge all the other plants to take leave. I’ve been corralling it into a limited space, forcing it to be a bit more prim and upright than it really prefers to be. The leaves are large and pale green and take on a deathly, depleted yellow cast as summer ends. Most surprisingly, right at my eye level, it appears to have gonads – who wants to look right at these?
Just as I was contemplating the neighbor’s advice…to transplant the milkweed this fall and make it a ‘wallflower’ somewhere in the back of my yard, not center stage in the flower bed…it began to teem with life. Over a dozen monarch caterpillars appeared almost overnight, climbing the stems, crawling on top, under, all around, munching all the while, leaving great, raggedy holes throughout the leaves – it was a monarch party! I have been enjoying every minute of it.
A few days of wild munching and the caterpillars became so plump and large, slowed down, and hung very, very still from various branches, readying for the transformation into chrysalises.
Two dear caterpillars never completed the move to this new stage – I watched these brown and wither, and ants devour them bit by bit. Happy ants.
I have been able to observe six chrysalises – I have no doubt there are others that are hiding from my view. One has formed on my porch railing, oh my! Even the chrysalis is enchanting – sage green in color, with a thin line and several small dots of spun gold that catch the sunlight in this magical way.
Yesterday, the first monarch butterfly appeared. I missed their emergence from the chrysalis, but recognized its slow, stunned wing movement as evidence that the butterfly was new to this world. I watched it flutter (tremble, really) along the porch wall for many minutes, and then it flew away. I know there will be more butterflies in the days to come – perhaps even today.
Milkweed is a plain, galumph of a plant and it is a bastion of beautiful life. Yes, and. I’m keeping it front and center in my garden. What a welcome source of joy in the midst of life’s many transitions.
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in Slice of Life! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers!
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart andtry to love the questions themselves."
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Do you ever have a moment, a surprise occurrence, that just sticks with you for days on end, and you can’t quite figure out why? This happened to me recently. I was supposed to pick up my granddaughter from her local playground, where she was with another babysitter. I was unfamiliar with this D.C. park and I had trouble finding her right away, which is always an unsettling feeling for a guardian. The city has great facilities, meaning that ‘a park’ can be quite large, encompassing several blocks. At this one, there’s a playground, a community center, a pool, basketball courts, and even a library. It turns out that they had gone into the library to use the bathroom, and that’s why I couldn’t find her right away. I ended up having an interaction with a stranger that continues to make me smile, it was so weird – and unexpectedly kind.
I had journaled about the day, but not much more. I wondered why the day/the moment stuck with me – and I thought about that great Rilke quote (above) and figured I’d just discover the full meaning in time.
Yesterday, on the Ethical ELA 5-day poetry Open Write, the challenge was to write a sestina… oh my, do you know the sestina form? I tried writing a few of these earlier this year, a personal challenge, in the midst of a 100-days of poetry commitment I was making. This poetry form is an intricate puzzle for me, one which I invariably fail. Six key words to end phrases and six stanzas jumbling the order of these end words? By the third or fourth stanza, I lose my thoughts, my way, my focus and just fizzle out. Oh my.
Then it dawned on me – why not try to tell the story of the stranger through the sestina form? At least I wouldn’t “lose my way” – because there was a beginning, middle, and an end. This ended up being great fun for me, and I thought I’d share the sestina here. I still need lots of practice with this form, but I was excited to complete six stanzas for once. Also, I used the Rilke quote as the bedrock of my six key words – so, I knew where the poem would end!
One last thing – writing into this form led me to a deeper level of reflection. I am realizing that the day sticks with me because this man was not someone I would normally have met or spoken with or hung around; and yet…well, you’ll see…
It makes me wonder what I miss in life on more ‘ordinary days.’
[Warning – I wonder if reading a sestina by a novice sestina writer is rather like listening to a young child practice their recorder? My apologies, in advance! Ha!]
My six words are
All
Patient
Heart
Unsolved
Questions
Love
Be patient toward all
There at a city park I knew not at all,
and behind schedule to boot, I parked impatiently
and stepped out. He spun up, said HEY!, startling my heart;
where he came from, vexxed me, confused me, unsolved
Watcha doing? Who are you? His torrent of questions
began; I challenged myself to respond with love.
Yes, my personal goal, to show “the stranger” love
rather than lead with fear, try to be open to all;
but within myself, appeared a flood of questions -
how do I make time for this or offer patience?
finding my granddaughter is priority one and unsolved
only this will settle my heart
He said, The name’s Karim, this here’s my park, my heart
Chuck Brown played here, music I love
What brings you round? What can I help solve?
I know everything about this place, I know it all.
From his perspective, I was the one out of place; patiently,
gently, he was quizzing me, questioning
Ahead at the playscape, no children, a scared feeling and questions
My granddaughter’s supposed to be here, my sweetie, my heart.
I walked along briskly, trying to stay patient
He stays close on his bike and assures, We’ll find her, love;
It’s the safest neighborhood in D.C., safest of all.
Honestly, I was in two places at once, her location unsolved.
Where’s her sitter? Where are the playmates? Everything’s unsolved.
I’m tagging along with a stranger, riddled with questions
If she’s not at the playground, where all
might she be? Is this the day that breaks my heart?
He soothed, Down the hill, there’s a water park kids really love.
Don’t worry, I gotcha, keep the faith, be patient.
So we continued, he the calm doctor, me, worried patient
Happenstance odd couple with mission unsolved
Up, down, around, across the field, together, until I found my love
Why I trusted this guy, I suppose that’s a question
I tell you, it made sense at the time to open my heart
I smile now at his words, I’m my brother’s keeper, that’s all.
“Be patient toward all
that is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions
themselves.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
