my pain
your pain
touches
my tender heart
that has broken open
more times
than I ever planned.
walks around the block
with Neighbor Ed
(when I was so young I can't remember)--
“Well, that's time wasted,” he said
sitting in his yard
after I got off the school bus one sunny day.
“Well, it got us here, didn't it?” I countered
as friends, even though he was 70 years my senior.
I overlooked his racist comments
to hear how he helped put people
on the Moon--
a cool job if I had ever heard one.
Then one day my dad and I
walked his casket
towards the Catholic priest
who wouldn't give us
communion.
* * *
a crush in high school
crushed in her car
a 16-year-old shocked to learn
that everyone I ever know will leave me
a dad-- who once carried me on his shoulders,
warning me to “Xiǎo xīn nǐ de tóu”
to watch out for my head
as we passed under the pines--
now shakes and stoops and
revisits old memories
but can't remember
who I'm talking about.
* * *
loss seeps in
like the tide
turns over rocks
like I churn memories
looking for meaning
like the summer I panned for gold with my mom
on the drive from New York
that was so hard for her
and so special for me.
* * *
my deepest pain, if you wish to know,
is when I have lost trust
in myself, my life, and my world
when I feared there was no purpose to pain
and life was a heartless fluke
like lichen growing on driftwood.
I choose to trust now
leaning into discomfort
knowing the burning stretch of hamstrings
brings tingly relaxation.
I walk with those humans
who humbly turn towards demons
who visit concentration camps
and contemplate the ashen children
who painted butterflies on walls
who remind us
of the beauty
of life and light
in the deadest and darkest
places.