On the Anniversiary of My Death

Please, don't cry on this day.

It was enough knowing I was

the reason when I still breathed.

Instead, cook my favorite meal

for dinner. Gather the family

around the table to eat and

reminisce about the times

when we still loved each other.

After dinner, watch my favorite

movie with the kids, let them

know that I watch over them

in death. Tuck them into bed.

Help them say a prayer for me,

for us. Kiss them on the foreheads.

When the time comes for you to

curl up in our now empty bed,

turn on our song and remember

that night that we danced under

the stars. It was the last thing I

saw when I closed my eyes

for the last time.

Never Looking Ahead

On the back of our fathers
we trudge daringly along.
With no view of what lies
ahead. We learn from
what remains behind.

Gripping with our young
fingers, for fear of falling
off and losing our way.
Nails dug deep into flesh,
Fate drips from the wounds.

We dream of the prosperity
we are told stories of, but
the dreams shatter with the
destruction and despair
left behind in the footprints.

The ground shakes and
chasms form below.
We hold tightly, waiting
for the day that we are to
carry our sons on our backs.

Happy Valentine's Day

To those who have broken me.
To those who have bent me.
To those I abhor
and to those I adore.

To those I've hated.
The ones leaving me jaded.
To those I've admired,
you've left me inspired.

To those I've broken.
To those I've misspoken.
To those that have cared.
For all the time shared.

Happy Valentine's day.
You deserve it.

I-90

Crossing the mountain pass.
Finding pieces of myself along the way.
The snow capped peaks reflect
nothing but the blank canvas
within my own thoughtless mind.

Crossing the mountain pass.
The drone of the engine
fills my ears saving me
from the bitter silence
of the solidarity I have found.

Crossing the mountain pass.
The lines in the road
dividing the lanes like I
have divided myself from
the bitter taste you have left.

Crossing the mountain pass.
The peaks fade behind me
as I near the destination I seek.
The last place I want to be.
The only place I'll ever go.

Home.

Green Tea

I never fancied myself a tea drinker.
Although,
I never fancied myself much of anything.

Long nights spent listening
to the clacking keys of
a restless keyboard.

three-in-the-morning tea pot
hissing loudly into a
sharp familiar whistle.

Countless trips to and from
the kitchen, cupboards opening,
closing. Lights going on then off.

kept company by thoughts
collaborating on the what-if's
and could-have been's.

An occasional glance at the
clock creates a look of disbelief.
Time for another cup.

Fear

We were given a poem in another language and asked to translate the poem. Not literally, but how we think it would be given the feel we got when reading it. Here is mine.

 Fear

It's something rattling me: destroying. Nothing has stood

against it and remained. Long breaths sputter and fail,

valiantly faltering on every exhale.

I do not know what causes this, only what it is.

At each turn the minutes speed then slow.

I have no alternative but to run.

If I make it through this shattered maze

and find my way back to the safety of home.

Disregard this letter,

for its purpose is no longer valid.

Should I never show my face again.

Know this: My strong will failed, for the last time.