Ostrova

She conjures blue
  skies, oceans,
         cornflowers,
   amethysts

  a white crane
      dots the water
        sending dreams
      to bending reeds

        A bird so beautiful
it makes you cry
   when you think of it
       gone away

  her gift is that dream
     that makes you grab
the handrail
  to keep from falling

       ( hold your breath,
           have you  ever
                 heard her make
                    a sound
                          ?)
           

What I have learned about grief...

  Last week, NPR asked its listeners to submit a poem what started with  the line above...

   What I have learned about grief..
           Is that  grief won't pass you by
even if you act like you're on the phone
          or studiously avoid making
 eye contact with his scabby visage.

     He will be at every stop sign
           on the sidewalk
will tug at your pants leg
      wanting his heavy slumping
weight to be picked up.

   Try to ignore him and it will be
like hitting your shin
 on a ball hitch,
or slicing your finger
    when you cut lemons.
but all the time and every time


You have to sit with him
       on the porch when
you watch your neighbors
   ride their bikes,
hold hands, and
       play horse on
 their driveway.

He will ride shotgun
 when you go to work
and cry with you
  in the parking lot
     
Grief is an imaginary friend
   that nobody wants
but everybody gets.

La Chingona

The owl would not dare
to call her tree home.

  Ladling out posole
   possibilities and
     bowls of caldo
 de sabiduria

  This wisdom is
from the dust of
    experience and
the watchful faces
     between rain
 and fire.

She will marshal
   the grimy children
and show them
       when to be silent
and when to be loud
       to whisper
and to sing.

This short giant
    will wield her sandal
to protect the innocent and
     admonish the wicked

And when she departs
  she does not leave
    but stays with
the earth
     the smoke of the fire
        the truth
      of the river.