Fingerprints

Like fingerprints on

windows forgotten or

left to remember, your

existence lingers,

clinging to me as

if still a newborn

warm upon my chest.

I dare not wipe away

these sacred stains

within my lifeline,

your presence, your

mark on this world,

your fingerprints

clutching my soul.

Lovely reminders etched

in glass to forever mark

those who came and

those who passed.

Happy 18th, baby girl!

Love, Mom

Sitting at Powell’s

I sit in this bookstore
where I feel detached
from the young and
too young to be the old.
Miles away, memories
come in with the fog
and rest their toes at
the edge of the water.
The only promise of life
is the sound of fury
from beyond what
only the lost can see.
I can only hope my
ghost is always there,
walking the shoreline
and dreaming, neither
young nor old, but
timeless in this melody
that never leaves us.

Removed

(to Faith on her 13th birthday)

So far removed from where I once was,
I often fear you will not find me;
yet, when you do, I’m reminded,
I’m never far removed from you.
I know one day, no one will remember.
And one day, no one will care.
But as long as I’m still breathing, I will carry with me, the flutter of your movements, as if to say, “I’m a fighter, Mom, and so are you.”

I know I have the promise of holding you forever.
And I know my struggle will finally be over
when God places you in my arms,
And me into yours,
never to be separated again.
And only then, my child, when I rest in peace,
will I finally rest in peace.

Who Knew (to Sam)

ImageWho knew today
that yesterday
would be our last?
Who knew yesterday
that today I would
hold you no more,
come home to
you no more.
comfort you
no more?

Who knew
and why didn’t
they tell me?

I would have held
you tighter, and
stayed with you longer.
I would have
done a thousand
things differently,
and I would
have never
let you go.