I am grateful for a place. It is warm. It is comfy. It is safe. I walk through my home and find myself gravitating towards it. Is it strange that this place is my parents’ bedroom? I think it would be if I was anything like Oedipus. But since I’m not (and I am not), I think I’ll enjoy their bedroom a little longer.

It is wide. It is spacious. And it is inviting to all who enter. The large windows make the bright colors of the room shine. My spirits lift as they guide me to my place. Sometimes I’ll find clean laundry littered over the bed and dive into it, letting its warmth soak the autumn cold out of me. I’m coiling in the flowery smell of around me until I see our backyard from a screened window.

It is beautiful. It pulls me away from the loose bras and faded shirts to study it every time. It’s changed since I last saw it but not too much. The mighty oak is still standing proud in the corner showering its leaves and pollen over everything in its shade. An old swing still hangs from one of its branches. I have no fond memories of it but like the aesthetic it gives the place. My eyes shift to the splintered red and white shed painted just how Old McDonald would’ve liked. Over the years my father and I filled it with chopped wood we took from the oak’s companions. Storms toppled them and the least we could do was put the dying giants to rest. Yes, saying that was just meant to make ourselves feel better about killing them. There is no further explanation.

But even though the trees may not be grateful for this place, I am. In it, I am safe. I am warm. I am home.

* ~

d e a t h,

p l e a s e

remember to

t u r n

t h e

lights

= = =

off

&

l o c k

the doors

w h e n

y o u

l

E

a

v

E

Like feathers bristle untouched skin

Death cracks open wide, again

Wounds that well beyond heart’s brim

Tough now tender, stretched sheer-thin

Sadness beads on silvered glass

Fallen tears fill heaven’s flasks

Fragile lives reflect like brass

On golden ponds dyed ether-black

Veil of heaven, drawn, one side

Curtains closed with eyes shut wide

Sun sleeps in an endless night

Eclipse of mourning shades moonlight

Awakened by mortality

Midnight mirrors twilight seas

Dust and ash stare back and speak

Echoes of life’s brevity

In the midst of flesh and bone

Mist of ’morrows, yet unknown

Vapors of the vast bemoan

Body, spirit, soul - unsown

Wisp-white clouds combed by wind’s

tines

Hands upon the face of time

Buoys on blue ocean’s rhyme

Bells of borrowed minutes’ chime

Pools of love leave saline stains

Viewed beneath the lens loss gains

Compassion clouds and mem’ries rain

Of loved ones buried ’neath the pain

Condensate obscures the view

Lost within the looking through

Window panes marked in bold hues

Alight the heart as strength renews

Stained glass lit as candles weep

Hope sails seas of murky-deep

Soothing waves of grief, replete

In unrest spirits longing peace

Days elapse to weeks and years

Loss exhumes the past and fears

Unstitching scars in mortal mirrors

Does time hem whole beneath dried tears?

Loved ones passed, bereft refrains

Reverberating fragile frames

Eternal dwells in hearts that pang

Cymbals’ chorus angels rang

Capture - soon spring winds will blow

Scattered seeds that sorrow sows

Tend them ’til love’s flowers grow

So Fall leaves Winter, white as snow