shine

her daughter was beautiful
playing her violin
in the orchestra 
beaming every time she played
the right notes

she was delightful, radiant
as she followed that soccer ball
downfield and kicked it the first time
without running away
the little girl jumped up and pumped her fists
as if she'd won the World Cup

watching her win, no matter the score
made her mother feel absolute, unfettered joy
radiance, holiness even
watching her daughter shine in a moment making a
memory to tuck in her scrapbooks
memories that lasted better than first place ribbons
or golden trophies

she stood on the step watching her daughter drive her
first car out of the driveway to school
another milestone common nothing special
and yet to her daughter it was triumph, glory
or the times her hero noticed her, called her by name
told her that she had gifts and treated her as if she were worth
remembering
her mother stood and watched, aching with love

when her mother was a girl
she was invisible Nothing Special Just A Girl
Father was the Leader, Father was God
Father must be appeased, his ego nurtured
no one else was allowed to step in front of him not even
for a moment
he was a god who demanded burnt offerings sacrifices adulation
unquestioned obedience and admiration
so the girl lived in shadows, careful not to let her light leak out
careful not to speak or sing too loud
lest the father god become jealous

and so
she weeps when her daughter grows into her own
feels the light within herself and lets it burst forth when she tries and succeeds
when she fails and tries again when she expresses her own unique gifts and
finds that she has a part to play right alongside
the other players
she doesn't need to put her in any spotlights because the light is already
inside her the potential for joy and life and memories and love
pure love for simply being who she is

her mother gave her
what she ached for herself as a little girl
hiding in the shadows

now ready
to shine

living

humans beings all of us are
awkward creatures dressed up
acting polite kissing the air by our cheeks
dancing around to cover up our secret sense
of ineptitude

it reminds me painfully
of an obligatory pubescent high school
dance no one quite comfortable in their
own skin trying so hard to behave
as if we are all in charge of our destines and not
terrified of dying or worse, old age

occasionally we accidentally manage
to love or feel an evasive connection
of spirit to another human being who
once had pimples and bras that we didn't quite fill out
or hard-ons and wet dreams

and we stumble we ache trying
to get the steps right to
a dance we never learned and we can't quite touch
our hungry grasping fingertips across

the abyss.

insanity

the pot-bellied robin
outside the plate glass
window
is trying to get in

he flies up
the outside
as if climbing a
sheer-faced rock

then -
bang!

falling stupidly
dazed
shaken

his stunned body
tumbling
clamoring
for a wing-hold

then fluttering
up
the side of the glass
bang!

he tries it again
as if he's in a Windex
commercial

then again
bang!
dazed

perhaps
threatening
a concussion

we laugh
all of us
on the inside

amused by
his bird-brain

but maybe
i think
we're a little embarrassed
too

knowing
that all of us
have done
the same thing
over and over again
expecting
different results

and we have
the scars
to prove it.