compassion

I sit in the sadness

I feel the grief

I’m not afraid of the solemn stone

that weighs on my heart

there is no compartmentalism

I mourn for him and for her

for the life leaving today

for the tiny soul flying away

for the mother saying goodbye to her son

for the nurse that I am

that must be stoic and strong

and though I grieve

my hands are busy

my demeanor calm

it is true that compassion

can also be strong

to help and to heal and to guide

down this last journey he takes

until heaven he finds

Glass

There is a piece of glass
Suspended in the sky

When people are lost, they come sit on the glass
To find comfort and rest.

Some come to the glass when they are angry.
Flames inside bursting forth
Uncontrollable fire
They need something to reason with them
To quench the fire
Leaving pools of cool water in scorched places.

They sit. Suspended by glass.

Some come to the glass when they realize the world is unfair
Why did their stars align in a worse way than mine? Or hers. Or his.
Cosmic ghosts can only answer this.
But still, the glass is a firm foundation
There even when answers are not.

They sit. Suspended by glass.

Some come to the glass when their emptiness overflows like a collapsing dam
For the sadness they feel is deeper than anyone can explain
Words can’t define everything you know.
They need the glass to keep them from free falling into an abyss that only the ones who have gone before us know.

They sit. Suspended by glass.

Some come to the glass to find solace
When there is no where to go but everywhere
And everywhere is a daunting wasteland
A foggy field. You can only see the space from one foot in front of the other.
It’s too frightening. It’s simply easier to stay complacent than move forward. Instead

They sit. Suspended by glass.

Many people sit on the glass in the sky
It’s starting to fill up.
Each day there is more weight

Some leave, getting the rest they desired
They glide away with ease
But forget that their weight still mattered
It took its toll.

For you see, glass breaks.
Not quickly. Not always easily.
But it breaks nonetheless.

The glass handles its own suspension
A hard thing to do
Harder when it suspends so much more.

But it wants to be solid
A grounded platform
A place of peace
A place that soothes aching souls.

A crack forms in the glass
And with it spreads more cracks like spider webs oozing from end to the other
Until the glass is covered in a maze that cannot be fixed.

And the glass shatters.

I am the glass. Suspended in the sky.

by daughter Gabby

A boy

I’ve fallen for a boy with eyes the color of sea foam
Amber flecks among golden waves
Guarding the secrets his mind harbors deep inside.

When he laughs, really laughs, its the feeling of fleeting sunshine
Encompassing what it means to feel free.

I love how he can’t help but dance to background music
Or any music for that matter
His vinals are carefully organized amid the disorganization that is the rest of his room.
He even spent $12.99 on a cleaning spray to keep the dust from collecting on their shiny black surfaces,

There was a time when he fell asleep next to me
Head resting where shoulder meets neck
He held my hand, popped my knuckles one at a time.
Crack.
The same sound my heart felt when he took his hands away from mine.

Sometimes he’ll get close again, but only for a minute
Hands on my waist, popping knuckles, blowing milk white clouds that smell of islands my way.

I crave his presence, long for the feeling of his leg against mine.
I wish he was mine.

All I can do is let go of the boy with galaxies in his head.
I wish I hadn’t drowned in those seafoam eyes.

By daughter Gabby

Gabby

she has ice blue eyes

in a face that echoes back to faded photographs from across the pond

her great grandmother and her grandmother’s face

her father’s face

but her soul comes from me

it is filled with light and darkness and dances with all the colors in an evening sky

she is an artist

her voice her instrument

she hears the exact pitch, timbre and tonal quality of every note that finds her ear

she pushes herself

works into the night for what she wants

she reaches hard for the burning brightness of her dreams

but finds it hard to not achieve exactly what she wants

her instincts read you like a sentence on the pavement

uncanny she can tell who people are beneath pretense

deeply kind she easily extends her hand

but has a harshness if she finds you lacking

her beauty is shadows and angles and glances

blue and reds and golds tangled in her hair and eyes

she is proud

and very fragile

she will fling her stardust high into the deep blue sky

and fill her hands with the silver dust that falls

she will find love

be it where she never looked

she will reach her dreams

be they dreams she never dreamed

she will include us in all the futures she will write

and she will be in every future of my life

I love that she is my daughter

more that she is my friend