Blank page, I lost the mage
I didn't get to tell him to light his sage
Powerless cries, I turned to muffled lies
Saw the truth in his eyes, the ego dies.

I put on faces and covered my traces
I searched myself in too many places
Died on the hill of pain and fell
And found myself fueled by the fires of hell.

I came to light a candle on the mage's table
But he didn't back down from giving me a label
The child I thought I was turned into a crow
I actually thought I could put on a show.

And now we're both sad and disappointed
Cause my sweet child's love's been tainted
By death's touch and empty soul
I'm afraid now, he'll always be alone.

Little bits
A Lego, a crayon
The small reminders
Of how I let you down

his days were few
when shadows came
to bring the tempest rains
to infiltrate a lad not even two

he learned to have a song inside
that danced and skipped along
no matter what that day
or night would hold

so when the sticks
arrived from monsters
with the thing that stood
and poked up right inside

the songs would play to quiet
the tearing pain that broke the door
where they would come to shove
themselves on toddler flesh

how long will he
with gentle life
be robbed
once more

Do you think I’m enough?
Mother do you finally think I’m enough?
My precious child, I love you. Listen to me carefully, do you think I’m enough?
Excuse me, sir? Yes! Thank you. Do you have a moment to spare, do you think I’m enough?

Looking on the past year,
I couldn't change a thing,
Throughout all the fights and arguments I would call here,
It also brought forth joy like a warm note on a nylon guitar string.

I saw my sons birth,
Where he held my finger in that operating room,
Where the strength of this newborn titan laid me low,
Tears of joy springing unburden to my eye,
Carrying me to a great height I never knew before.

I got to see him take his first steps,
Hear his first word,
And see all the other firsts along the way.

Every one worth the trials of life,
Working to support us,
Put myself through college,
Waking at 4,
Coming home at 8,
And sleeping at 12,
Working for 15.30,
And slogging hard for 2.

You were mad at my doggedness,
Angry at ignoring myself,
I know I waylaid my own needs too much,
Put too much on my own shoulders,
And sometimes I still do.

I promised you the world,
And I can like to think I can at least give you the parts of it you want.

Only now do I realize that the parts in question are not as big as I once thought.

evening summer   overlooking the lake
                                from behind the fly screens
a lit stove   has yet to widen its warmth

my father-in-law strums his guitar
my three-year-old snuggles
pinching the notes  into his mothers hair braid