Tag Archives: loss

Deep Winter

You are winter.
Stripped down
to necessity
but not quite barren.
Still beautiful.
Sometimes
I’d even say exquisite.
But mostly
your warmth
isn’t enough
to penetrate
what is cold in me
and even though
I long
for summer
I find it impossible
to believe
that once it wraps me
in its blue skys
I won’t long
long
long
long
long
for you.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
2-4-18

Sparrows

The sparrows
finches
chickadees—
all of them know
his kindness is reliable
even when, especially when
cold, frost and snow
cover their world in difficulty—
they know where to find his love
poured into the feeders
outside his windows—
they taste it in the suet
he prepared and stuffed
into the vacancies
of a fallen cedar
to give energy and sustenance
to wings of all colors
that flicker
like his memories
of a different landscape
a different decade
when he met a girl
who flew in for a closer look
and spread her love over his world—
he soared so high
it took him a long time to land
and by then she was gone—
so he keeps the birds near
to remind him how it felt
to be weightless—
and every morning
the sparrows return
and every evening
they fly away
and take with them
small pieces of his sorrow.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-29-18

“Snow Birds” by Andrew Wyeth

You Wonder

You wonder
if you’ve ever
been imagined
into someone’s day
someone’s life
someone’s fantasy—
have you ever
been wished
onto a plane
or into the woods
or into a warm bed
on a winter night
for a connection
that had nothing
to do with sex
and everything
to do with love—
and you wonder
if even once
you’ve been wanted
by the one you want—
if even once
there’s been a match
in this universe
that could have
saved your life
pulled you up
and out of despair
but both of you
believed the other
deserved a kind
of perfection
out of your price range
so both of you
ended up here
on a blank page—
one of you writing
and one of you
reading into it
whatever you can.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-28-17

“Waiting by the Window” by Carl Holsoe, 1865

With the Dead

It’s a cold night
almost Christmas
and I am wishing
it would all
be over
when I find myself
stuck in traffic
driving slow
parallel
to the ancient
iron fencing
between me
and the cemetery
and I pull in
as if someone
is calling my name
from behind
the skeleton trees
and I follow
the narrowing road
to its logical
dead end
and I kill the engine
and step out
to touch the granite
stones
that are so heavy
with what it means
to be crushed
by an accumulation
of days
and I lay down
on the earth
beside a man
named Jim
who died in 1913
and then I stare
at the moon
as if it could answer
the question
of how to feel
alive.

 

 

 

DeMaris
12-16-17

Parking Lot

I erased
all your emails
that were delivered
to my impatient
inbox
every morning
with love
and a photo
of what no one else
would see
and when I
put them in the trash
I knew I’d have 30 days
to change my mind
to recover
these messages
punctuated
by emojis and hearts
and images
that caused
a tiny explosion
inside my heart
but sitting here in
the parking lot
with your last smile
in my hand
I am going for broke
I am emptying
the recycle bin
I am wiping away
the year
from my cheeks.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
10-29-17

 

How it Ends

The photo of you
sitting in a field
of wildflowers
made you seem accessible—
and the picture
of your body
halfway into Mosquito Lake
seemed to indicate
you lived for adventure—
but the joy in your eyes
as you stood on Mt. Rainier
was in fact nontransferable
to life down below
where love waited its turn
for you to find it
as beautiful a destination
as the mangroves
in Costa Rica and now
the Redwoods are calling
and you are almost gone.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
7-26-17

 

Desperate

I’m not sure if
desperate
is the right word—
maybe that’s too dramatic
for what it means
to wait
to wait
to wait
for my turn
to be relevant
and important enough
to have someone
who claims
to love me
come
when I need him—
and because I ask
for so little
it seems this
small request
could be fulfilled
without a fuss
and maybe even
with a sense of urgency
because time
isn’t on our side—
but it’s becoming clear
I am a convenience
instead of a need
I am a toy
instead of a treasure
and if he doesn’t come
I’ll know
how little I matter—
and desperate
will become the word
I must decide
to live with
or to leave.

 

 

 

DeMaris
7-25-17