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Eternal Hope

 

Winter I thought you dead

Lifeless under frost

My own body coiled

Under blankets frost thin

 

Heartbreak aches in cold

But still beats sallow, deep

Subsist under curled leaves

In naked forest sermons

 

But days grow by minutes

Given the slightest coax

Impudent shoots push

Through the softened skin

 

Miraculous blood flow

Glacier covers break from bed

I rise slow awakened

Eager buds on every twig

From out stretched hands

Two Boys

 

Two boys in red shirts

Each holding a branch

From a windstorm

Torn from the tree

With deep roots

 

Taking turns

Whack a stone wall

Primitive rhythm

In the tune

Of earth, wind and sky

 

In my small house

Windows dull the sound

No longer privy

To the talk of boys

And games they play

 

Oh my world has changed

Far from the tree

The roots and rhythm

I once knew

 

Oh how my song has changed

Paradiddles and rolls

Too complex for my hands

10,000 hours

To practice and learn

What I once had known

Family Plot

 

My cousin pointed

No snow on their graves

Others covered in brittle crust

From last night’s sleet,

Soft powder underneath

 

As my grandson squatted

By your headstone

I thought the sun graced you

More than others laid to rest

 

My diminutive history buff

Came to see great grandpa

War vet who lost a leg

His wife, forever by his side

 

Purple Hearts and monuments

Carry weight in a 9-year-old mind

While my cousin toured and spoke

Of each loved one below the crust

 

The uncle I never met,

Dead at sixteen, burst appendix

Another uncle, my favorite

And his cantankerous wife

Their gathered moss headstone

Fostered a flurry of sweet sadness

 

Even though for years

I said they were not there

More life in stories

Told by my cousin

The educator from Sacred Heart

 

We left for lunch

Warm diner with pancake specials

Three generations speaking,

Filling empty stomachs

As well as the fourth

DNA linked

Below the crust of skin

 

 All the while

Our Sacred Heart orator

Told stories in soft undertones

Light and lively

As the new gathering snow

That swirled and dashed

With each passing car

 

No need to rush

The roads are still warm

Plenty of time

To get our fill

Before going home

At the Gate

 

The family waited

As passengers streamed from security

Three children of descending size

Two small girls in pink floral dresses,

A thin, tall boy with sleepy eyes

Each holding a bouquet

 

A few feet away by the information booth

The rest of the family, women young and old

Holding more flowers in pretty dresses

Not a hair out of place

The men in polished cowboy boots

Bolo ties, shirts starched without a wrinkle

 

My grandson and I waited for his mama

She was snowed in for two days

In Alabama of all places

Had to drive three hours to catch

One of four flights out of New Orleans

Worst snowstorm since 1888

 

My grandson was his scruffy self

A mass hair on his head

Like a pile of dirty laundry

Bouncing about in Spiderman crocs

With a small rubber airplane

 

The elder boy in line

Offered him an airline flight pin

He was older, not needing it

He rejoined his siblings

 

The family was waiting when we got there

I overheard snippets of Spanish

Some words I had picked up living here

I wondered who they were waiting for

Who they loved and respected so much

 

My daughter messaged me

She was off her plane

We wedged between the youth and elders

My grandson excited

 

When she appeared

My grandson leapt to hug her

Both cried

The longest they had been apart

I teared as well

Group hugs cause that

 

Her hair was disheveled

In comfortable clothes

I thought

I should have bought flowers

 

We headed for the elevator

Leaving the patient family

Dressed as if they were attending church

In the cathedral of comings and goings

In the holy spirit of la familia

In a country of nonbelievers

 

             

                                        for Victor

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