These hands have touched the dead Mothers, fathers Little ones I can't bear To speak of - but carry Life should not be like this Not end like this Cries echo Can you hear them Hear their disbelief

Light bends under weight leaves the faithful faithless as shadows descend like ravens to peck on brittle bones Mercy sought mercy found through Hail Mary prayers chanted on beaded chain dangling from open palm Lost is not forever gone consoles believer while beloved soul waits to rise beneath the ground

I feel the loss even though her memory is strong; the way she'd say “up” when she wanted to cuddle, the way she'd run through our house, her arms straight back like Superwoman in flight. I wish I could shake a can, pop the lid, press the nozzle, and have a stream of glitter wrap itself around her waist so I could pull her back to me. I miss her. Now that I've shared these words, what do I do to ease the pain they bring?

It is difficult to want but not have Then she appears left by her mother in my garden sanctuary And a familiar ache rises to nurture what is not mine How blessed and unblessed, am I to hover like a parent in a doorway

You appear after everyone is gone Settle beside me on stark sheets Cold nose nudging frozen hand And in an instant spirit adrift anchors in sunny harbour Nothing compares to this - Here we are free to do as we please, all weeping is done

i no longer fight it i let it do what it needs to the cleverness i possessed is gone replaced by a what will be, will be mentality she said it would be like this - all heartache would come at once then leave me in a sedated state, where tears are merely droplets that flow healing has begun, acceptance too yes, acceptance - an admission that changes everything but nothing my solo, a dance twirling towards tomorrow

I call it to me like a lake pleads for waves to drench its desert shores and it comes not in pale drifts but pearls of rain draping me with wet light until I am smiling

Caught in a circle of hellos, we avoid each others eyes, side hug and pretend we were never more than we are now. And yet, in that brief moment when you drew me in, I heard your breath hitch the way it used to before we kissed.

airing layers of regret blues on canvas

1. the gun he hid under the dresser in the bedroom he shared with Mom 2. how he raised it to his temple while standing in the bathtub 3. how we clung to each other on an orange tweed couch listening for the shot that didn't come 4. how she told us to tell him we were happy he wasn't dead 5. how we waited for the next time