11/10/24

read a poem, take some action.

11/9/24

I always wanted

daughters 

finding out about each
a jolt of hope
a lesson in the work of joy
the sturdiness of it too.

daughters

which can look like anything
really
playing chess in a tiara or
smearing peanut butter on the walls.
Reading books about Spot
hippos
Ramona
Nancy Drew
Elsa
trucks
goggies
which is what the littlest calls
doggies
because life really is that
precious
that
perfect.

It can look like explosions over the fact
that
no
you cannot go
inside
that tree, and I can’t really explain
why not because some things just
aren’t possible,
even
even
for you two—

with your French braids or knotted hair, with your
crooked letters and
scribbles that you are sure are drawings of
cows
with your
pointy-toed cartwheels and
strong 
tiny
legs that push
hard
against the earth—

some things 
aren’t possible
and going inside the trunk
of that one tree
		
			I am so, so sorry to say

is just the beginning.

but then there’s your
way of walking into a room like it’s
yours
your way of calling an unfair thing
unfair
and the fact of you here
at all.

daughters. two of them. and me, their mother

and I think—

maybe you can get into that tree
after all
I 
write poems and make
 soup 
plans
friends
mistakes

what do I know
anyway
about trees
about impossible things that become
in the right hands




possible

I’d love to know where you’re donating, where you’re hoping to spend time fighting, any glimmers of plans to move forward that you have,

xo