Versions of Chai

This past summer I submitted a poetry chapbook to a contest sponsored by Accents Publishing, an independent press in Lexington, KY ( http://www.accents-publishing.com/news.html ). The subject of my chapbook, entitled Fertility Rites *, was my personal experience with the frustration of trying to conceive, the euphoria of finally becoming pregnant, and the devastation of losing my baby girl at 21 weeks. Most of the poems were written during the 5 months following the loss and working on this project was very therapeutic for me. I knew I was taking a big risk in submitting something with such personal and emotional content, but I really felt like I needed to share my story. When the results of the contest were announced at the end of August, Fertility Rites * was not among the chapbooks selected for publication. At first, I was really disappointed, but I knew deep down that my submission needed improvement. Some of the poems were written in a hurry in order to meet the contest deadline a...

A small word, yet composed of an infinite number of minutes and spoken so frequently in daily conversation What a host of tasks, projects, and even dreams are deferred to this nebulous spot on the calendar It's exact date has never been fixed It hovers somewhere just beyond reach bursting with a mixture of promise and tedium If everything goes as planned, later will be the busiest time of my life

What will they sing about? What will they write about? Now their messiah has been crowned king and all their troubles are ended? How will they survive without the fury that fueled them for so long? Those champions of peace who peddled their own version of war in hate-saturated voices and spewed their angst until our ears rang with the violence of their words. Their hero lauded and the moment of jubilation passed, they awake from victory to find themselves bereft of inspiration, deflated of purpose. Words of beauty and love are a foreign language their lips have forgotten how to form. While we who live peace and strive to love all human kind still find inspiration and see beauty in our daily lives. We will keep singing. We will keep writing. And in their silence maybe we will be heard. We have always known it is folly to pin such hope on mortal man. For one day, the facade will wear thin and they will realize that tyranny has many faces and evil more than one brand. On that day, beware,...

When I was in my mother’s womb I broke my heart into three pieces One, I kept for myself Returning it to beat and pump The other two I left behind To wait for my sisters When they came along two and four years later respectively Each had a piece of my heart Clutched in her tiny fist It’s not been easy Having my heart in three different Places at once. At times the pain of Separation is too much to bear For only when we are together Can my heart be whole again

The car idles in the drive-thru He talks but I don't really listen Through the windshield glass a crescent grin leers out of the night sky the outline of a cat body almost discernable in the glow surrounding it Beware the Jabbertalk , it says the tongue that wags the teeth that clack I laugh out loud disrupting the flow of monologue He asks what is so funny "Nothing," I reply. "You were saying?" As his discourse continues the Cheshire moon chimes in And shun the verbose box of chat I stifle another laugh but he is distracted paying at the window "Did you hear that? They don't have any salt. Do you still want it?" he says I answer yes without looking away from the moon It shouts, Don't need salt, need pepper, more pepper! I smile to myself He stops talking and hands me my drink I look over at him so classy in his black fedora for a moment I think He's the mad hatter Then I say "Let's go. We're late."

Show me your soul no matter how dark I won't look away. I want to see past skin, muscle, and bone to the raw you, Formless as vapor, the part that struggles to be free. Show me your soul. I do not fear the monsters lurking there, Being so familiar with my own creatures of darkness. Show me your soul no matter how dark I won't look away.

Sunlight pours down and spreads through stiffened limbs like warm honey, inch by inch restoring life along with grace. The world relaxes into color as the outlook shifts from gray to green. SAD days are over-- time for the thaw.