My Mother Loves Her Animals and Me

My mother loves her animals and me;
And, of course, my sister's* in there, too.
She shows her love quite unmistakably:
She pets us all, no matter where or who.
I haven't sprouted yet a bushy tail,
Nor has my sister* grown a toothy snout;
But I sometimes feel a dog in such detail
I pant and bark and scurry all about.
But I am glad my mother has a love
That cuts across the paths of innocence.
I know that her sweet feelings long will move
Me to appreciate her scents!
*Feel free to change to "brother."
On Passing Air
On passing air
One turns around
To see if any
Heard the sound;
Then moves away
To vacate where
Another might
Inhale the air;
And then, relieved
In gut and soul,
Becomes again
A wholesome whole.

On Your Day Just Want to Say
On your day just want to say
That you can count on me
To be your friend until the end:
Just wait and you will see!
I know that you would be as true
To me for just as long.
No "if" or "but," no matter what,
Our friendship will be strong.
So, my dear, I'm glad you're here
To share my joy and pain.
I care so much, so keep in touch--
I'll talk to you again!
Once I'm in My Bubble Bath
Once I'm in my bubble bath
I like to stir up more.
Half the suds go in my eyes
And half go on the floor.
The fun is in the bubbles 'cause
They giggle on my skin,
And when I stick them on my face
They dangle from my chin.
And when I splash them hard enough
They pop and disappear,
And then my bath time's over 'cause
I've made the water clear.
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Life Is Beautiful, My Child

Life Is Beautiful, My Child
Life is beautiful, my child,
Though many things go wrong,
And you may hear much sadness in
Its strange and lovely song.
Though friends and loved ones die, my child,
They're never really gone.
Nor more nor less than yesterday,
In you they will live on.
They will live on in you, my child,
As everything you see,
Though it must vanish, will remain
Alive in memory.
Alive in what you think and feel
And dream and say and do,
For all who ever were still are
Upon this earth in you.
Make a Little Time for Public Mourning
Make a little time for public mourning,
Easing the harsh pangs of hidden grief.
Maybe ritual tears will bring relief,
Offering a role for one's dark calling.
Remember the utility of sharing,
Inviting cloistered hearts to come outdoors
And dance with us along our barren shores,
Lost within the music of our longing.
Death requires our collaboration
As we render due commemoration,
Yielding sorrow to the common cause.
Matthew
Matthew is gone and will never be back.
Although we all loved him, we'll see him no more.
The beauty of life leads to anguish at death,
The fear and the hunger the price of each breath,
Held like a gift that has loss at its core.
Each day without Matthew renews what we lack,
Winds from the sea that make grief sing and soar.
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I Want You to Be Here with Me for Christmas

I Want You to Be Here with Me for Christmas
I want you to be here with me for Christmas,
Even if you leave your heart at home.
I know that lately my love makes you restless,
But it's too hard to spend this time alone.
My love for you is like the Christmas season:
Joyful, yet with knowledge of the end.
My need for you has neither hope nor reason:
If not a lover, please, just be a friend.
Please, just be a friend, and come to me
When all the world is bright with love and song.
You are my pillar and my fantasy,
My earth and yet the sky for which I long.
My need for you, of course, is mine, not yours,
Nor need you answer me but out of love.
This is the season when we open doors
To let in those whose need our hearts might move.
And after Christmas you may go your way
To leave me with my sadness and my dreams.
I have no right to bother you to stay,
Knowing how your heart, unaltered, leans.
I want you to be here with me for Christmas,
Even if you leave your heart at home.
What you decide, and why, is not my business,
But still for me it's hard to be alone.
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So Let Them Be, Who Have Had Sex with Children

So Let Them Be, Who Have Had Sex with Children
So let them be, who have had sex with children!
And turn Your rage on those who turned their eyes,
Intending to defend Your church with lies!
Nor were they ever fit for Your dominion!
These hypocrites are far worse than the poor
Polluted souls they moved from place to place,
Avid to avoid undue disgrace,
Trafficking in silence to be sure.
Remember them when You return! For they,
Instead of proper penance, yet remain
Cardinals, bishops, princes in Your name,
Knowing well what price they ought to pay!

Sister Margaret
Sister Margaret's been here many years
In service to the children and the Lord.
She is one lovely note within a chord
Too vast and beautiful for human ears.
Even those who've carved out bright careers
Remember long and fondly one who poured
More love into their hearts than they could hoard,
A river sweeping through their childhood tears;
Remember, too, the beauty of a life
Given as an act of charity,
All of it, not one desire held back.
Ruled by need, they pause in harmony,
Even in the midst of daily strife,
To see in her a passion that they lack.

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Our Mother Is the Sweetest

Our mother is the sweetest and
Most delicate of all.
She knows more of paradise
Than angels can recall.

She's not only beautiful
But passionately young,
Playful as a kid, yet wise
As one who has lived long.

Her love is like the rush of life,
A bubbling, laughing spring
That runs through all like liquid light
And makes the mountains sing.

And makes the meadows turn to flower
And trees to choicest fruit.
She is at once the field and bower
In which our hearts take root.

She is at once the sea and shore,
Our freedom and our past.
With her we launch our daring ships
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Happiness Can Also Be a Haunting

Happiness can also be a haunting,
A text one can recite but cannot read.
Peace need not erase the need for need,
Pressed to a perfection one finds daunting.
Yet often one can win with little warning,
Mothering the plant without the seed,
Of help in breeding though of different breed,
Taking pleasure in another's dawning.
How one feels depends on how one chooses,
Embracing always less that what one wills,
Redeeming even tragedy with passion
'Mid the sinking tapestries of night.
So may you find the courage that refuses
Dominion to the clarity that kills,
Awakening the mother that might fashion
Yearning strong enough to see the light.
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Hail to Aunts, Who Serve as Audience

Hail to aunts, who serve as audience,
Although at times it may be from afar!
Pleased to tender sympathy and sense;
Pleased to leave the inner door ajar.
Yet near or distant, the need remains the same:
Mothers could use extra tongues and ears,
Offering the care without the claim,
The friendship with the expertise of years.
However much an aunt is heard or seen,
Even though proximity is best,
Relationships depend on what they mean --
'Tis love that puts all reticence to rest.
So let us sing to aunts, that they may be
Delighted with their role, deservedly --
A speaking part in which the words they say
Yield fruit that nourishes an unseen day.

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