family

just when my mind begins to race
imagining disasters in the ten-fold
tragedy unimaginable…

i remember that time moves slow enough
to catch yourself caught in the moment,
that ‘it’ is just right…

that mom’s hands never really age,
forever giving you enough to hold onto
if only wrapped around her one finger..
the first heartbeat you’d known

that dad’s tears are real badges of parenthood,
there when you screw up
and succeed… more than words,
saltwater lessons of life

that brother’s love is always there,
even when he was smarter, stronger, faster
he wasn’t trying to be better,
he just was…

that sister’s care is always stronger
than a proud defeat,
and she is always mother’s touch
even as miles – or inches – away..

and family is a root
a trunk
a branch

a leaf floating gently down
at the kiss of wind..

a wellspring of hope
a fountain of youth

a history, a language
and a name.

Hope

Sometimes it feels like we’ve been thrown into this world blindfolded with cotton stuffed in our mouths and rubber in our ears. And we’re bumping into each other and stumbling and feeling every nudge, scratch, bump and fall. And the world is cold and dark and we’re deaf to each other. But in the middle of it all, we still feel each other. We feel for warmth when the sun goes down. We huddle together to stay alive. And yet we’re given sticks and stones and guns and bombs. And nobody really knows what they’re doing. But we don’t even need weapons to hurt one another. Sometimes all it takes is the cover of a blindfold to stop us from seeing where we put our hands. Our feet. Our words. Our hurts. I guess that is why we’re so drawn to miracle stories and healing. Because we sometimes feel so damaged that we want to know that once in a while we get it right.

Life is this thing bigger than all of us and part of it is to forget that we’re connected to it. That we all share the same blood, even if it’s a different type. That we all share the same skin, even if it’s a different colour. That we all have a voice even when we don’t know it exists. We are one stone in a path across the river.