In Search of Nuance

This is the bleeding heart
that shines the mirror
begging you not to look away.

This is the ram
unafraid to challenge
both demon and angel,
demanding a response.

These are the hands
cramped from the sorting
of seed from stone.

These are the throats
swallowing worlds of emotions
while looking for a space to scream.

This is my heart
in search of nuance.

All I find is a mirror.


Photo by 卡晨 on Unsplash



Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings

That Last Morning

That last morning, you woke me up when the light from the alarm clock was brighter than the sky outside. It didn’t bother me because I knew the clock had been winding down since January of last year, when I prayed that you’d see one last snow fall. You got your snow. You got your week by the sea. You played with the children you loved. Earlier this week you even got steak. So when I heard you whimper during the morning shift (Dad always takes the night shift) I lay down next to you. I rubbed your back until you felt better. And together we watched the sky lighten, waiting for Dad to get up and so we could that last morning walk together. 


On that last morning
your pain finally left you.
My pain is lessened
knowing that we gave you these gifts—
a full life, a gentle end.

Kit, looking dapper


Song Choice: Cracker Jack by Dolly Parton


Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem is linked to the Friday Writings Prompt at Poets and Storytellers United. It was written for my sweet boy Kit, who crossed the rainbow bridge last Friday. I am grateful that our whole family was able to be in the room when it was time to say goodbye.