"you only hug me in airports" was the last thing I heard her say
as she opened her arms
to her eldest daughter
and I was nothing short of amazed
when they walked into each others arms
I saw her close her eyes
if only for a second
drinking the moment through her pores
as if the rest of us were invisible
even to the night
that moment seemed to stretch
to morph
to erase years of pain
and close the gap of months
in a single step

together

I wonder if she heard the screaming in her ears
or the sound of glass breaking
the rain on her face
the night that she slammed the door on that same little girl
now an adult
but still small enough to fit between arms
I'll never know what happened between them
but I imagine it like lightning
hitting their chests in a terrifyingly beautiful fashion
and I was waiting for her daughter
to cry out
"no, you only hug me in airports"
and I'm not sure
if they will ever see each other
again
I wonder if they're happy
or simply

content

If I could put to words
what this year was,
I would say--
****.

**** this ******* year.

Thirteen years into
the second millenium,
was as unlucky as the number
said it would be.

This year was about
being on my own,
being sad,
being alone.

Yet I found,
poetry, and that death
could never be the answer
to questions I'd rather not ask.

I found friends
in people halfway
across the whole
world.

Love from the people
of my kind--
poets--
who loved and despaired.

This year was not
the one I would remember;
because new beginnings
are often disguised
as painful endings.

So here is to
my new beginning.