A WELL TRAVELED HEART

Tag: grief

  • VIGIL

    VIGIL

    She is sixteen when leukemia claims her
a girl of nut-brown hair and letter sweaters 
the brightest star in the local firmament.
She outshines her brother even in death.
The church overflows onto Route 12
the April afternoon of her funeral.
She leaves behind a mother, a brother, a father.
Each evening the family sits at her graveside
as if awaiting benediction.
That summer her friends bring picnics to her grave.
The red votive lamp on her headstone is always lit.
It shines in easy view of the family’s kitchen window
and glows warmly through
	blizzard, rain and star shine.
Deer walk daily through the churchyard 
	years sift down like snow.
The son graduates, moves to Bradford.
The father works and works and works.
The mother sits
	by the glowing lamp.









Deposit Photos Image 124351762_xl_2015.jpg
  • NESTS

    NESTS

    The whole place we built by hand
    not just paper and paint.
    We hung rafters from the sky
    a chimney and bright metal roof
    which sang in every rain.
    We walked blank land and invented
    life anew in the Blue Ridge
    as if anyone ever starts again.
    Years later a blind date remarked
    “You’ve spent your life on houses.”
    True. Like a nest-obsessed bird, I’ve
    painted my way from town to town
    designing space for friends and music,
    tables to sit at and chairs to read in.
    I envisioned a family unlike
    my scattered patchwork
    which rarely gathers where I live.
    All that time and work
    for a life dreamed of
    a love desired – perhaps that’s
    why birds have not just nests
    but wings.