Lit (poem)

Once lit never truly extinguished

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We are not born once

but in a million ways in a million moments

made & chosen, lost & broken

in a brilliant spectrum of

truth & denial,

of light & trial

Sudden or slow

the awakening

shapes & makes us

ever different than the moment before.

 

Death is different

It never feels as complete as birth

The memory holds

It cradles the past in soft palms & fingertips

or in tight clutches

But never again wholly unknown

as the birth of a new connection

 

Neuron to neuron, pupil to pupil

once lit never truly extinguished.

 

190815 Aug. 2019 lgf

For my grandmother (poem)

For my grandmother:

There is somebody who will remember

the map of your skin

and the candy you chose

to fill the heavy lidded,

solid fitted,

multi- faceted

bowl of your life.

I will remember

the powdered rose scent

of your bathroom

and what you chose

to surround you.

your unmatchable smile,

the way you giggled,

your love,

all still keep me company.