Postscript

(for my children)

his, mine.       smile, eyes, four beauties—        
            sparked from the embers           

opposites attract, Cupid’s attack— 
           and all that passed in the years between 

my children, my loves, a postscript written 
          when frontlines 

      ricocheted across the world, when poison 
drizzled into puddles,          swamped, unstirred 
             (but eventually they came for everyone)   
       
              Hands Up!   Hands Up!          
            arms around      the upstanding obliterated witnesses found, 
                         mounted. gassed.

                   cuffed—      if you stood up 
              Unhealed. Boys. Stay. Masked.   
             
my darlings, when the rain falls arrowslant  
              look skyward for her curves of beauty     

       live within the touch of trees
             learn how to pray—     by noticing 

         silhouettes, komorebi in Spring is Conduit— 
             rainbows sketched, tears dripped  

               from branches dropping sympathy 
                       forgive dearest Winter her empty mouth— 
     
             don't doubt her purge, she Cycles 
          all the kisses you have left inside    
   
   be grateful when what you have is enough, 
              (is enough, is enough)

         let the sun's soft seep onto your skin, 
          as the soothe of being understood 
          
       take big billowing walks, swallows of whomever helps you grow, 
  heal with who you love,  not always comfortable                 

       hellish at times. stay the course, Magnets are plotting you. Trust them.   
 avoid the easy of the easy kind of love and living,  

    you won’t care for it much in the end.  
             when you feel as ripped limb, emptied—   wait for the day after tomorrow

     before saying anything big. procreate imaginative cathedrals of your interiority
                 a mystery, wholly alive— 
   
     burn for justice—    speak up when others can’t  
       surrender your body to the soothe of what its animal needs

        hold hands when you can 
         when words are not needed, a body can attune   
           
         as the thrill of a song sung live in a room 
      melt into music—   its breath will open you  
      
       find time for the sorts of friends
       who matter much,    to stay in touch—  

             the lassos of levity 
         cartwheel leaves back to life 
                           
                half-moon's shadow 
                         I love you so— 

                (am always, the other half)

A little long this one (!!) I was set the prompt to write from another vantage point, another person, so I sent this from future me to my children. Date stamped to this time of turmoil. I’m thinking of the world, Gaza, Ukraine, Iran, of America, especially Minnesota … so much challenge in the world right now. But still so much courage and hope in humans, everyday heroes. For Mother Nature and for the Masterplan still in cycle.

Look, the light, ahead.

And in everything we care to do.