Ordinary Time


Hard to know what to do with this grief,

the branching out, spilling over

when there is sun at my window,

the sway of summer’s raucous green,

a ripple that moves through me — rune

for momentum, forward thoughts, even

this joy I have learned to tend

with obstinate vigor, the faithful

work of loving what threads each day.

But always there is room to be

surprised, to stumble into a memory

that begs for one more scrap.

Sometimes, it is a conversation

I will never enter, two people on the street

sharing a dream of us, a look

on the television that sees through

to where your sorrow couldn’t go.

Then there is now, nameless, fathomless,

rising up to fill my throat.

Grief, I say, come in. Sit down.

I have tea. There is honey. This

will take as long as it takes.




4 thoughts on “Ordinary Time

  1. as i sit in an almost empty room, cup of tea beside me, last moments of living where i have loved, fought, laughed, and cried, your poem is a welcome honey in my cup.
    thank you dear friend. it is almost time to sit at the lake together. it is almost time to say goodbye to this house. i remember you sitting with me talking and dreaming into a new day. xoxo


    • Ah, my beautiful friend, I miss you. This note…I can envision it all and I bless all that your heart is holding, all that wants to be let go and all that you get to keep. I cannot wait to sit beside you at the lake and listen to your journey. I love you.


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