Saturday, August 25, 2012

Jesus and I

My First Holy Communion

At St. Joseph's,
I fell in love with Jesus. 

Never heard His voice
but some of my thoughts 
were His thoughts.
I hid nothing--
could hide nothing--
from Him. 

I explained myself
why I did this or that,
felt this or that,
wanted this or that.

Jesus always told me
what would please Him.

Sister Millicent called this
my state of grace.

Even now we talk sometimes.
You’re only an illusion, I scold.
Why can’t you be more?

I forgive you, He always says.

But I can’t forgive You, I answer
wide-eyed and fidgity, 
tho I know He understands.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

My Mother's Advice

Freidel Hoermann
See the world.
See it while you’re young.
It’s most exciting then.

Meet many people. 
Visit many places.
Marry late. 

Those unencumbered years
expand your life the most.

And if you end like me--
A housewife with regrets
her world has shrunk--

Be one who has a past--
Your reverie
will get you through.

Do you know 
I loved Romania?
And Paris! Those hats!
My narrow escapes!
Trains I jumped at dawn!

That handsome pilot--
he poured champagne 
into my shoe and drank!

Let that happen to you.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Home Alone

I wake up 
to a quiet, 
unpeopled house

float down our long hall
toward the kitchen

my pajamas flutter
like an angel’s robe.

I reach out into the emptiness
sense something there
as if walking in the isle 
of a cathedral dense
with apparitions.
The boys went camping.
I don't miss them.
Instead I long for coffee.

I pour the dark powder
into the white filter 
as reverantly as
a priest preparing
Then I lean against 
my white tile altar,
sipping, beholding,
following my bare feet 
into the garden. 

I hear myself humming. 
I hear myself praising the Lord.

I hear myself praying
there is a Lord 
to receive my praise, 
with so much yearning.

After This

Mount Tam
I want to live again--but not forever!
Time without end would be a bore.

Just give me ten millennia--
that will suffice I think--
to sate my curiosity,
to grow more restless,
to ready me for whatever
happens in that tick
of time before
the next conception.

Or if the worst be true,
to pare my fear
that after all this
there's only an abyss.

My Soul

Lake Chabot
beside the lake
I sense
something near
fusing me
with not me,
listening kindly,
my empty self
with what is
In silent--
I am at last