He is born

Rest assured, for He has been born 

the one who created heaven and earth 

the one who saves heaven from this earth.

No appetite

there is no will
you tell me after I nudge you

to eat, to drink
even to live

this is a deep hole that you've sunk in
there is no one to claim

parentage reasons
you hear of wired words hanging:

triggers, envy, exhaustion
fatigue, lack of color, heavy eye-lids
unmatched skies, refusal of entry,
change, chaos, relaxation

the set continues
while you've lost the appetite

to even breathe
call it desperation, some say

but it is all in the gut, I answer.

Winter cleaning

To mop away, the blue hour
the leftover soap not in dishes
this is the warming spring
creeping over the last bits of our winter

observations of a young new mother

Wavy wintertime

his little hair creates

a break in the rain that’s falling

before the chocolate is consumed

by his little milky teeth

Not a sugar cube

You are not a sugar cube
my mother used to tell me, why then do I
fear the rain that could fall flat on my head
gentle and with vigor forcing me to run
to the nearest street-corner, hide and cover like it is the end of times?

Copying

I repeat
the words you say, all the adjectives, all the names, the letters
line them up until they become mine

eggnog

first tasting, white like snow-caped mountains

eggnog 

whipped with strength, tasted with tenderness

Blackout

You do not feel it
how winter arrives until you lose
your sense of space and place
the blackouts are often a sign that you are living

by choice or by practice
in the land of your forefathers
where they carried touches
learnt how to burn and be burnt

this is the brutal effect of winter
some don't find cover
when what you need is just at the fingertips
of your very hand

it is hard to build up to warmth
when there's much on the line
repeating, like freezing pipe
a need for warmth

you will be upset for the black out
when darkness swallows you
but then again, it is never new
how you can let go and stop resisting sleep. 

night-waking in winter

Tonight I woke
to the sound of fury

the sky splits open
like women giving birth

to rain, to pebbles
to the things we touch and flinch

tonight I woke
to the sound of fury

tin houses holding
the pitter-patter

ding-dong
of drops, the sky cries again

yet those who are under it
 receive the lashes

those shaken houses
with foundations of sand

built on frowning fathers
drowning mothers

pitter-patter
ding-dong

tonight I woke
to the sound of fury

washing earth
like women giving birth

to the next generation
that rises out of mud

& all will be right with the world

You speak of death
I speak of the ways you can stand still
when calamity sheds her hair around you
lets fall loose the curls like leaves

you speak of death
but I speak of opportunity to live
maybe the walls have not darkened yet around me
maybe I have not seen enough hospital beds

you speak of a fight
I speak of a road to run, woodlands and birdsong
you tell me that bravery is born with one like wonder
I tell you bravery is gained, like a cape

one minute at a time
you speak of tired bones and aching shoulders
I hold you close and know, no matter the difference
all will be right with the world

First rain

falls gently like it's not seen earth
falls urgently like children's laughter
the first rain that patters over my head