Thursday, November 21, 2013

One Thing I Hate


One thing I hate in this lifetime is the way God keeps
breaking my heart open, just cracking it open as if it were
a walnut and He needs to break through the hard shell of it
by letting me fall madly, deeply, instantly in love
with wildly inappropriate people
like the 17 year old with the muscles and the broad chest,
the goofy grin behind the counter at Starbucks 

or the airy-fairy girl with the piercings and ripped stockings
and purple striped hair that makes me wish I was 30 years younger
so we could be best friends, except that 30 years ago
I would have beaten her up because I would have been crazy-jealous
of her cool disregard for other people’s opinions

or the tall, Sufi-dancing carpenter with the work-roughened
hands who in nearly every way is the man of my dreams except he’s
so steady and solid he seems deeply boring
or how about the 35 year old who in some weird cosmic way in one short
weekend brought me up close and personal to the fact that I am
the spiritual warrior with the heart of a poet I’ve been looking for
all my life

or how about the silver haired charmer who, on our third date,
mentioned our honeymoon in Hawaii and the house he’ll buy me if he wins
the lottery, and then there’s the freedom-loving, Harley-riding, hazel-eyed,
boy-man with whom I felt like the one who is too steady and boring because 
he was just trying to survive every day life and the drama going on 
inside his head and so

the one thing I hate in this lifetime is the way God keeps
breaking my heart open, just letting me fall madly for these
absurdly beautiful people, how the cracks in my heart seem to let in too much
light, how God keeps pushing everyone I fall for out of my life and
out of my heart, how He just keeps making more and more room for

Monday, November 4, 2013


I once
not so long ago
dreamt of an old woman
the crone figure folding laundry
in a dark warehouse
endlessly and calmly folding
a man’s white socks
who looked at me
with her deep wisdom and said,

“We always know who is going to hurt us
and how…but we go in anyway.”

I did not want to hear this. 

Even my dream self knew this meant heartache
and sadness and loss. Even now it makes me
weep with despair. 

And yet, when the time came, 
I went in anyway
to love as best I could. 

And in this moment I pay the price
and swallow the bitter pill of sweet sorrow,
begin to metabolize it in my heart and eyes and hips
and throat where it grips for a moment as if
it will never
let go.