Nine Sisters

from Dad on the road.....


shadows fall
on hills - something to covet but never hold,
waves of land crashing into the sea

an ancient fire
anger’s core rests in water,
ocean deep

forever testament – danger
now past
but process not complete

the Maker kissed
nine times
the Nine Sisters now sleep

time hides
their hearts
between each beat

and i,
wanting,
will never have...

their passage now
far
beyond my reach

j'ai peur. je suis étonné!
étonnement!
mon âme étonnée! mon âme.....

Almost every Thursday, after I facilitate my discussion section at the U, I drive over to one of my favorite coffee shops in South Minneapolis. It is worth the 10 minute drive the through campus, around downtown, west towards the lakes, and then south towards one of the more real, gritty and artsy neighborhoods the city has to offer. The coffee is great. The atmosphere - well, I might be slightly less cool than the average customer. But it is the place I go when I want to be nameless, regular and ignored. Hey, sometimes you need that.

Lately, when I take this late afternoon coffee break, I get out of my car to hear a child screaming. It is the same child every week. Across the street, in the parking lot of a child care center and a line of small school buses, a small boy, maybe about 6 years old, screams hysterically while being attended to by at least 5 staff members. I don't know what to make of this. I am a worst-case-scenario kind of girl. I guess the culmination of all the socialization I experienced in my life has resulted in me being a little more critical, pessimistic and dark than I should be. I want to think of the best, but my brain just isn't made for it.

So, I am watching this child and thinking, "What the hell is happening to this child at home that he will not get on the bus?" What awaits him? Is it pain? Neglect? Or just that he is engaged at the child care center and not at home? I heard about this once, when a social worker was describing how children behaved at a local preschool for children of parents in rehab and counseling for abuse. Teachers and bus drivers received special training on how to help the children cope with the transition from school to home. But no one gives the children training on how to survive abuse or neglect. And who would want to? I can't imagine having to convince a child that it would be okay to go home when we have no idea what awaits him. Or even worse, if we do know.

My three-year-old has been screaming every time I leave preschool. I know this is because this is the third week of a very new and hectic schedule in our house. Everyone in school, dad and mom working and interning, coming and going. It is hard for him to wake up and be rushed out of the house. Most mornings it has been just as hard for the rest of us. We just aren't three, so we don't get to scream and cry wherever we are. I am just so, so glad that he is not afraid of coming home. And I cry inside for the boy that is.

A shot out to my social workers.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkJolktOslw&p=EFC6F2C07DE3E4BB&playnext=1&index=1


Peace

Dad's First Poem

I only have eyes.

Princeton Park in the summer time.
Daddy "Q"in on the powder dust backyard.
Jolly Roger versus ......(whomever) ice cream cones.
Hot nites, no air
Runnin' after billions of fireflies alive just for us to catch.
Baseball (Cubs) Pajamas.
Broken metal skates...
So hot...waiting, wondering when we could fry eggs on the sidewalk.
Grass wars (dirt all over the street),
half he lawn pulled up....spankins' on the way.
Dust on the Venetian Blinds (What's that?)
Chalk from the trains.
Endless days...
Hot nights...
Mommie, kiss good nite...
"I only have eyes for you"....

I love you DAD!!!!