Weighted Snow
 
Remember the snow
playing, having snowball fights
wedding ring lost
not all that was lost.
 
Looked so hard
rubbed the white powder clean
tried to come home
forget what had happened
forget what was lost.
Funny, how a blank color
can gather so much eminence.
 
Every night try to search
through space for meaning.
It remains…space.
 
Can you hear it?
The distance between you…me.
 
Now the question is--
now will you look
through the white snow,
that white space
and are you willing to remember
what it was like—
or do we go on living this facade.
 


Commonalities

No one around
baby left violently awake
crying wondering where home lies.
 
Innocence wasted, walls crumbling
sleep left late.
Long abandoned.
 
Barely alive, her nine strands
of blond hair glow as she sleeps.
Drool dribbles from her month
as she flops her arms back and forth.
 
Not knowing where to run,
no choice,  she left her on the bench.
Mother not ready.
Confusion, depression follow her home.
Shadows of guilt surround her.
 
She walks home, each step feeling like
her legs are made of stone,
drowning into the sidewalk
 
Baby violently awake,
home taken away, before it could be home.
 
Mother cries, tears weigh heavy.
She hopes forgiveness will follow her home.
Hopes it will not desert her.
Night eats up day, and mother too
is left violently awake.
 
Thanksgiving
Five of us at the dining room table,
giving thanks for our food,
for each other.

Mother doesn't know
what to be thankful for.
Maybe that the gut-wrenching pain
is only in her legs
not her back,
that she slept peacefully last night
without screaming
about the torture,
or that perhaps she'll
eat today without vomiting.

Guilty for her ungratefulness
she thinks she should
be thankful that she's alive,
but she realizes
that the bones of the meat
she's about to eat
are stronger than her own.
 


Lady in Waiting
 
“Drive me someplace,
I want to see my son.”
 
She said on that
frigid winter night.
It seemed colder
inside than outside.
 
After she had said
those words the night
seemed to only last longer.
 
It had been a while,
the nights very restless.
Even when it was dark
and quiet it still wasn’t.
 
The dreams involved
her son’s handsome face,
his chestnut hair
his rare smile--
never lasted long
she left too soon.
 
Now twenty years later,
she wonders if he still smiles
and is it more rare.
 
Next morning sun rises,
but not bright enough.
 
Destination reached.
 
She goes to the door.
Counts the steps from
car door to front door.
Knocks ever so softly.
 
Twenty-four years walks to the door.
 
Smile upon him and suddenly
it was brighter.
Felt like that smile was not
so rare, neither was she.


© David Iribarne