I Hold Babies

I hold babies now. 

Every Saturday night

at a late time for me. 

I hold them 

and I hum 

and I pat 

and I take in what they are feeling 

often too early 

into the world. 

And as I pat them 

and place my chin 

gently upon their head

I wish them a good life 

that is starting 

with love. 

I am wishing them 

understanding

patience 

and laughter.

I want them to know 

the right amount 

of discomfort 

in order to work 

and grow

while someone looks on

encouragingly.

There are so many teenagers 

that I work with

that I volunteer with

that I have helped raise 

that I have taught.

And I love them 

whole-heartedly 

and I imagine 

they could be 

the babies in my arms, 

late in the evening. 

Listening to machines 

whirring 

and whimpers 

and soothing 

all around me 

I think

if I just held you 

when you were small. 

If I had just chased away 

all your bad dreams- 

even if they were 

in the shape 

of your very family 

maybe 

you could have had 

the ease 

you deserve 

or the chance 

to see 

better choices. 

Maybe I could have

done more

sooner. 

And then I hear 

my mom tell me 

that I don’t have to be a part 

of everything. 

Essentially

why do I insist on 

inserting myself as the 

One in someone else's life. 

And I don’t mean to. 

I am not the hero. 

I am just the side character 

wandering through the story 

wondering who needs a hug. 

Because I am not done hugging 

yet. 

My heart fills my chest 

when I think a child 

needs 

more love. 

Its only remedy is 

to give it. 

I have been 

praised for it. 

I have been

accused of it. 

It's just

I have never been 

more sure 

of what my role is 

for my time 

in the world.

As I walked through 

the ER last Saturday night

a very thin 

a very disheveled 

a very old man 

was sitting there 

either waiting for his turn 

to be seen 

or just finding a break 

from the cold. 

He called out

”Hello, there!” 

and I turned to him 

as if he called my name. 

I said

 “Good evening” 

into 

his eyes

and kept walking 

through the double doors 

to get to the elevators. 

As the doors slowly closed 

behind me 

I heard him say

“Well wasn’t that nice. 

And on Valentine’s Day” 

and I thought 

I am going to go hold you 

upstairs 

when you were a baby. 

And I am going 

to use 

my love

to hope 

for wonderful things 

in your life.

 

Unexpected Flower

I came across an 

unexpected flower

in my now defunct garden.

And this is the thing of it…

I wasn’t looking for growth, 

I didn’t expect anything more 

than the same same same 

of a garden

left alone. 

Weeds. 

Barren. 

Obviously abandoned.

And I wasn’t even 

looking to look 

at the garden. 

I was going around 

the corner of my house 

and it was there. 

And I commented aloud something like, 

“Whoa” or 

“Hello” or 

“What” 

as if asking the flower 

what was happening.

And I thought about 

what people say…

And goddamn it, 

no one, 

please, 

say these words, 

actually, 

to anyone… 

“When you are not looking”

“When you least expect it”

“Around every corner”...

And then,

around the corner,

when I least expected it, 

where I was not looking, 

I found an unexpected flower.

Yes, there has been growth.

Yes, this is a metaphor.

Yes, there is beauty among 

the very chaos in which 

such loveliness grows.

The Zen Porch

 

I created a space for myself. 

A porch attached to the house 

that was screened in 

and simple

and quiet 

and lovely.

My zen porch. 

My then husband felt

left out 

as there was just

one 

rocking chair 

on the porch. 

One day

my daughter and I 

built two

brand new 

rocking chairs 

so that he would 

know 

that he was 

welcome. 

He sat in that chair 

from time

to time 

over the

years. 

So then I had a space 

that was ours 

in which I sat

alone 

and with the offer 

of company 

always 

present. 

When someone 

else 

took that chair, 

my then husband 

told me 

there was not 

enough 

seating on

the porch 

and 

that if one child 

was sitting

out there, 

there had to be 

enough 

spaces for all 

the children

to sit

out there. 

It was also 

hinted 

that his chair 

was to remain 

his 

own. 

So then I had a space 

that was filled

with anxiety 

where everyone was 

welcome 

and where I was 

afraid 

to go. 

And 

when he moved 

out 

I had a space for myself 

and for 

whoever wanted 

to visit. 

It was very short-lived 

as the porch 

was then 

used 

for leaving the home 

and 

for hiding 

secrets. 

I did not have a space anymore. 

And so I created a space for myself 

on the front porch 

with hammock chairs 

that swung 

this way 

and that. 

It was a wonderful place 

to be 

and where my children 

came 

and went 

and I watched

cats hunt 

and neighbors come home 

and sunsets calm

and rain storms

also calm.

I just missed my old space 

that I created for myself

originally and

organically.

After enough time 

had passed,

after I learned 

to let go

and 

to let be

I created a space for myself

on my side porch 

again. 

I built new chairs 

for me to sit on 

and 

to rock on 

and

whomever else stopped by

could sit 

and

rock, too. 

I built plant stands 

to hold all of my plants 

and my students’ plants 

where I could

care for them

during the summer. 

I put up new 

lights 

and I breathed new 

air 

and the cats

were happy 

to be here 

as they were 

before. 

I have one more year 

on this porch.

And.

I have created 

the space in 

myself 

for 

myself 

and I will take that

with me 

wherever 

I go.