Poem: No One Tells You

No one tells you
That in one flash
Of a moment
The earth shifts and
You move from selfish
To caretaker for all

The cat
The dog
The laundry
The dirt
Was always there
Waiting quite patiently

But now, because of that moment,
The frail cat needs
Herbs and reiki
A syringe full of pasty food
“a pate” they say
that drips from her chin

the dog, weary from a
day in the canyon
has broken or strained
his paw
and needs to be supported
to stand or walk or pee

laundry must be sorted, socks matched
and must smell
fresh, of some man-made
aroma that can’t be placed
but just smells
right and respectable

the cheese and dirt
mustn’t cover the counters
for too long and
one cannot dream
knowing a chocolate chip
has strayed from it’s package

i care about sleep
and bright ready eyes
and skins that glows just so
but not enough to
let her wail alone
in her room while I think

about dirt and cheese
and smelly clothes
and cats and dogs
and they way they rain
and how I used to care
about only me.

Poem: Sleep Becomes Her

Your face
On the pillow
Whose cover hasn’t
been washed
in a week.
The same pillow
your daddy drools on
Because he sleeps
so sound.
He flips it over
graciously
when I notice
the spots.
And I snobbishly
will not sleep
On the pillow.
But you do
Because your face
On the pillow
is all that matters
right now.

Poem: Pieced Apart

The first poem written about Kaia's birth. It's been residing inside me for some time, and - like my healing - is a work in progress.
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I piece apart my yearning
As if I must somehow defend it
Understand it wholly
Know where and why
My heart was ripped
My body was torn and numb
Like my soul
My child removed, my soul
Why my tears fell too easily


That night
I clung onto the words
“this child can’t be born at home”
and wanted to fling them
with Olympic bravado
through the small slits of glass
I needed to hear them crash around
the shards
and bleed.
It’s hard falling from grace
So swiftly


I shiver remembering
How my body shut down
After so much work
And so much love
A defiant act
I grasped the child inside me and
dug my tattered nails
Into a system I couldn’t beat.
I could not protect her
From the lights
The strange gloved hands
The piercing and grabbing
The urgent and redundant need
To breathe over her life

I am sure she heard my plea
“wait, baby, wait”
and was simply holding
her breath
waiting for the signal
the pushing
the fire
the water
the hands
of her daddy
her sage
her mother.
“home, baby, home”.