Cattails, Part 2
Dark December evenings,
Sitting on a train passing over the Passaic river,
Watching the lights slide and wondering if I’ll ever be better than I am.
I miss the sun in my hair and the wind off the water,
The faint saltwater on my skin.
The best thing and the only thing I know.
I can watch the phragmites dance along the tracks,
And in winter rain, they can almost be cattails.
If I look hard enough, I sometimes can’t see the difference.
Festival of Lights
I watch the candles run down,
The cold glass of the window heats just a little as the flames flicker and fall,
My fingertips warm in a windy December.
It is just a small candle,
In a dark world.
But it’s here, and for tonight it glows in my window over the fire escape.
All the miracles and all the wonders,
And all it takes is one small spark,
One small soul,
To start a flame in the darkness,
To bring the dawn out of the night.
Tonight I pray for candles and for the light.
Thoughts on Being Alumni
It’s been four months since Brooklyn.
Four rent checks.
It still amazes me the number of cars on the A train,
The noise of cars rattling through the tunnels still sounds like music to my ears.
It is hard to leave a room full of laughter,
Friends and knowing I can breathe easy.
Finally, I feel like home.
I am curled in bed,
Watching the windows in the buildings across the street.
It is beautiful to watch the quiet glow.
The Christmas lights on the fourth floor are back again.
Into the Deluge
The rain sweeps down from the scaffolds,
It is like the eye of the storm,
the hurricane that lasts on –
I am a sinner in a world of saints,
The man playing French horn in the subway,
Dark hands resting on the keys,
Alone together in our imperfection.
The melody walks with me, into the deluge.