poeming on a monday afternoon
Three Entwined Poems
what isn't here
the shrieking laughter of our third child,
the endless responsibility of our first child,
guilt that neither of these children drew a breath.
my open hands cannot cup guilt, only grief,
riding the waves of love, only and ever, love
what is here
everything and nothing
all at once, waves of beauty
and truth and grief and love.
my open hands cupping brevity
and endlessness, all at once.
what is and isn't here
the everything shrieking nothing laughter,
the all at once endless waves, first beauty.
guilt and truth and drawing breath.
my open hands cup and cannot cup
the endlessness, these waves of love.