For Madeleine

That star beat out all the others tonight

   In arrival and brightness

I don’t know what’s more exquisite –

    Its mirrory-white keyhole into heaven

    Or the hushed blue vapor of dusk behind it.

This evening, for a change, I’m not pleading upon the star,

  Only gazing…

It follows me as I walk, hiding

   and re-appearing between the houses

And if it goes out of sight, it’s okay -

   I know I’ll see it at the same time tomorrow

Yet I won’t see you tomorrow or ever,

You won’t re-emerge from behind a tree

   No more hearing your breathing voice,

You, unbelievably, have slipped through

    that silver-white keyhole

We see all that surrounded you –

 Your desk, handwritten papers,

 your purse, bracelets, your lipstick

   which once kissed your warm mouth –

We see everything but you –

   However, I know you’re all right…

The radiant spines of the star - your hair,

The lustrous glow - the Indian Kurti you wore

The glittering - your passage…

Two diamond grains

   falling back to earth

      as your beloved progeny

Please bless the loved ones still on this earth,

With frail bodies riding on faulty airplanes,

   You are in a sanctified place

Pray for us mortals,

trying to forstall the inevitable,

trying to hang on.

-rc

Sort of a Father's Day poem

After seeing dad, my heart is so tender,

it might disintegrate

Taking him out to lunch alongside

other dads and daughters

The loud music makes it hard to talk,

and I’m relieved somehow

I give him his gifts with their receipts

I can never stay as long as he wants

Looking into his dewy eyes, we say goodbye

and history swallows me up

Later, I find myself driving across town,

                        in the opposite direction of dad’s

You greet me casually in the afternoon -

It’s over so quickly

                         no soft words

I can’t decide if the curtains are green or blue

You fall asleep immediately after

and I have no right to resent it,

  for there are no rules,

I agreed

Lying naked in an unfamiliar room

casual, casual in the afternoon

The green or blue curtains – the color of the part of the sea

where we drown

Earlier today,

I had worn my checkered summer dress,

and had hugged my dad so tightly goodbye

  He had said, “I remember when you were the size

of a loaf of bread.”

-rc

Be

You may think nothing is happening -

the only movement is sound

We can’t go anywhere until it cools down

so we have to wait, sitting

on the forest floor

under the shady pines

Nothing to do but

count my bites, swat at gnats,

shoo the woodpecker from our cracker box

do a crossword puzzle until I get stuck on

“River through Portugal,”

be soothed by green,

drink water from a canteen

This is an exercise in being

To be is the art of not

Not there, but here

Not do, but sit

Trees be

I suddenly awaken from my outdoor nap -

For the first few seconds

 you wake up cleaned of your mind –

where have you been?

The pine needles stay on the trees

until they’re ready to fall

and not a moment sooner

-rc

Saddleback Butte, CA

There is no more searching for it –

resting after our long hike,

inside the yellow oilcloth tent

like being in the stomach of Africa

If this were the city

we’d know how far we walked,

measuring city blocks -

but the desert is closer to the rhythm

 of the sea

The women make fruit salad in the distance

as the men nap by the fire cauldron -

my man, with a potholder over his eyes,

 sunglasses on top… funny face.

Sitting in the space between dunes

the breeze kisses

my one sunburned cheek

Listening to the breathing tent –

I will take the desert home in my shoes

-rc

Keep HOPE alive for one more heartbeat at a time.

 Keep HOPE alive for one more heartbeat at a time.

– Joseph Firecrow