Poems from the bottom of my anxious heart

Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Ant and I

Above Half Moon Bay

On this rotting trail

I let an ant transverse.

And note she crosses

Without a care

of the fast death

she’s just been spared

beneath my boot.

I revel in my generosity

and feelings of supremacy

tho I know like me

this ant’s returning home

only if her luck holds out.

We are equals, this ant and I

in our respective fates.

Under some plain boot

We both will fall.

And neither knows the dates.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

What A Heavy Suitcase, Childhood

What a heavy suitcase

childhood is.

Packed for us by others

Far too casually

For such a chancy expedition.

Crammed between the fantasies,

So many cumbersome conceits,

Obsessions, qualms that

Weigh down every choice,

Every wish, every day.

When can we unpack those

Early selves, fold

Them neatly in a drawer

And walk away?

Copyright (c) 2012 Ellen McCarthy. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Amazing Grace

I stop stirring the pot

or sweeping the floor

or watching TV

and hasten to the porch.

A brilliant copper torch

blazes in the window

on the hill above.

As if the sun in its descent

came crashing through the glass

and set that house on fire.

It happens most every night.

And most every night

I hasten to the porch

or I think about it

and tonight

write a poem about it.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Forever Doesn't Scare Me Anymore

How do you like eternity, mother?

Is it like we talked about, hoped it’d be?

Or did you flee this forsaken rock

To vanish

With countless blazing galaxies

Into oblivion?

You who were so brave, so lavish

Are now, what?

A nameless bit of dust

Meandering

Through the cosmic tomb?

A newborn sun

Scattering light

Across the dark, soundless chasm?

Do my prayers have any power?

If so, you’re heaven’s seraph,

Secure in everlasting fellowship.

I’m listening for an answer.

But only utter stillness

Stands between us, as if forever.

And yet, forever dosn’t

Scare me anymore,

Now that you’re there.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Want to Put Your Head in My Bucket?

Want to put your head in my bucket, Oma?

Nope.

Because you're old?

Yup.

Will you always be old?

Yup.

Do you want to be old?

Nope.

Then put your head in my bucket!

Friday, March 9, 2012

Not only Human, Not Only Earth (Published Spring 2013, www.hippocketpress.org/canary

This giant redwood tree we stumbled on

is old, so old it was a sapling when

Rome fell and Aztec still was spoken

in these woods

where we stood, my friend

and I, staring skyward,

she in quiet prayer and I musing

whether life's sundry forms

prove it must be sprouting out there

in countless starry gulches

of the Milky Way and far beyond

in ways an earthly brain can’t fathom.

We know Earth shimmers with a beauty

that’s finely tuned to human sensibility,

but not only human, and surely

not only Earth

The Connor Boy

He wasn't four long

before this bench

overlooking the lake

was dedicated in

loving memory

with a copper plaque

that won't last either.

We have to let go of everything.