I was looking in a window
when a dark star engulfed me,
a dam broke in my soul
and the tide covered up my eyes.
A dream led to a large harbor,
and boats were leaving.
The wind blew cold inside me.
Death is a terrible birth.
Saying good-by,
the deepest grief.
Flying with a wing suddenly broken,
and the sky lost forever.
A mother across the way is dying.
A family has nowhere to go.
Geraniums in front of my house
last for the summer,
with nothing to replace them,
the cost of living,
for coming together,
for daring an inevitable fate.
I have no solution to this.
I pray,
knock on wood,
argue with myself,
and value life for love.
I treasure every second
with my loved ones.
I do not waste time.
The woman across the way
is dying.
I’m picking geraniums for her.