Butterfly Migration

I remember I was driving
and it wasn’t a dream but
real life, one day, when
I was heading to what was then
as close as I could come
to a holy place,
the mall in the OC,
alone in the car
a new mother-to-be, gravid
my daughter still growing
inside my swollen belly
and they found me
thousands of bright orange
butterflies, huge wings
soaring above and around and over
my car, heading in the same direction
but on their own path.
It really happened, I swear.
For one day, before I became
who I am, the goddess
Butterfly Maiden sent her servants
to fly with me.

Seaweed

My daughter is the sea, her hair

kelp and briny tangles washing

through with dirt and starfish.

I give my devotion to her, to sit

and brush her hair, untangle

the seaweed so

She can shine, all on her own.

Green emerald iridescence under

frothy waves of turmoil.

I give my life to her, to keep

the sharks at bay, protecting

her beauty from their jaws.

Shook

She shook in her chair,
trembling with sadness, trying
to hold in tears but not
being able to stop them
falling down her cheeks.
And then she looked at me
helpless
not knowing why she
cried, because
just a moment before
she had been so happy
finding a new home
a new service
a new leader and felt
contented, for a moment.
Until the tears came.

I knew why. I felt
the same thing, just
a month or so earlier
the first time
I had come here
like the first good date
after horrible divorce
too good, it brings tears
wringing out the pain
from the loss that hits
harder after finding
something good again.
I knew that feeling, so
I could comfort her.
Help her understand
I knew she missed
the home we had just
left, because
of your letter.

Because if we had fought
as she wanted me too
as she angrily screamed at me
and then sobbed and then
pleaded to let her
go and fix it, to talk
to you on her own, because
you loved her, didn’t you?
Because you had taught
her songs to sing? If we
had fought to stay,
at best, you
would have hated me more.

So we left.
And she shook, adult
emotions rocking
her child body. And
I held her, and helped her
and when we could,
led her back home
to where we began.

Mouths of Babes

He’s a crumb, and
you’re a sandwich,
she said, devilish
glint in her eye.
Don’t worry about him.
I’m cheese, and
she’s baloney and
you’re a sandwich.
He’s just a crumb.
I laughed and asked
what about yesterday?
When you said, don’t worry
that it was meant to be,
that he’s the one?
Mischievous, like you said,
she laughed too
and said, well,
I could be wrong.

My Mommy and Me

My younger daughter’s contribution to my blog :).

Cytherean Dreams

As the wind
went through my ears
I heard your voice.
It was like you were
with me.
It was fun playing with you.
I love when you always
play ball with me.

[My first guest blogger – a poem written by my 6-year-old daughter. She’s starting her own poetry book.]

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