The Music Room

we are exiting rooms quickly,

much faster than it took 

for us to fill them with life, 

things we loved, thought 

we needed and finally, didn't

it comes down to walls; 

they stare back at me 

devoid of art or purpose 

alone in the basement this morning

I hear voices, laughter

and an imagined wall of sound 

hits me as I close the door 

that only partially stopped 

the waves of amplified guitars, 

boom of bass and drum; 

the poetry of my sons' lives 

overcome, I turn to climb
three flights of stairs 

with a last load of laundry

I will never be a lucky witness 

to those moments again, 

thankful beyond these few 

inadequate words

that I had such times 

Sometimes

It is a week to say goodbye

what I don't understand
outweighs all the chips
I stacked on the side
of what I thought connected us

the story I drafted, played at,
half-way believed, was just
a wish for who I hoped you were

to whom I'm
saying goodbye
I still can't say

Sons

I sit in reluctant sun today
on a porch weathered
by greens of every color
at the house we lived in
before we ever thought of you,
our limbs like tendrils
of the wisteria that
caress the pergola

in her house, we talk of you;
your quiet sweetness
like her patient chickadees,
your ferocious determination
as you push into the world
insistent as finches rushing

I've watched you walk away;
your shoulders sharp as
the corners of a square,
strong enough to bear any load,
emotional or otherwise

the shape of your nose
a shadow of our ancients,
your deep eyes lit from within,
the remnant of another fire

I praise the DNA
that runs through you,
a singular stream forged
through the debris of
a thousand lives

I pay homage to the men
who've gone before you;
those boys and men
we've loved, would open
arms and legs for, again

Boundaries

this morning, toxins
reached cumulative levels

I can do melancholy
with the best of them,

but I'm desperate for
an emotional ipecac;
I can't stomach you

you rant a pointless rage,
tell me what-it-is,
preach the as-i-see-it gospel,
diss on, disregard, dismiss

you stop me right there, cause
you've lost interest in the story,
do an about-face to school me
with a self-declared loving intention
that feels like punishment

I won't allow it any longer;
my push back more
instinctual of late,
lines drawn impenetrable

you, one more lesson that
I need not suffer to love;
that I've learned - independent
of anything you could ever tell me

If You Don't Know, Then You Don't

words string
like a tether;
thoughts slow,
linear, measured

few follow;
most rush ahead

the moment
an unnecessary
assignment
memorized for
the short-term

just enough
attention granted
to glean praise,
glory, a sense
one matters

the gravity of
message lost

all that's beneath
like clouds; what
was important
yesterday, vanished

only the listener
fails to dismiss;
learns to read code

powerless, perhaps
wiser for the deciphering