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The book The House of the World has been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize and is now available on Amazon.


How many boxes do we want
to open in our lives?
Would we be prepared for them all?
The doctor who tends the sick
and lets his father die,
Do we have to know?
The nun who denied the souls
who could open doors.
No graves for them.
What is a mother’s obligation?

The candle lit at Christmas
in the snow,
with no trace at dawn.
Where’s its light?
Does it matter who lit the flame?
How long it burned?
Was it better for burning longer?

Is love more real if it’s lasting?
Where does life go?
How are things recorded?
Like fossils.
Like waves that leave their fingers
with the tide.
By the tenderness of eyes,
or locks without keys,
that guard our doors.

Does size matter?
Do mysteries expand
or become smaller over time?
Must laughter fade
and never be heard again?
Who wraps these boxes
crowding trees?
Generosity, frankincense,
and myrrh.
Children remembering toys,
sharing with other children.

How does one define the life
gathering in closets,
clogging the heart,
hidden under stairs,
when we come along,
and something shakes inside?
Do not open unless you have
sufficient tears, gold and wisdom, for what’s inside.

Published inIndex of all Poems