Our Lives Are Buried in Snow

I got a one line email today from my sister saying “hes fine.  dad in cape coral hospital.”  my first thought was, ‘if he’s fine then he surely wouldn’t be there.’  worry and fear and questions and no answers remind me how quickly everything can change.  i say ‘remind me’ because i know what that feels like all too well.  one second life looks north and without even turning around or bllinking you can find yourself pointing south.  a sneak attack-less pain in the chest, even if it missed the heart by only a kiss, is still something that worries me and i am sending love (and light) to El Capitan…even though he would probably tell me that thats ‘hokus pokus, ugga bugga, bullshit’ most likely.  Regardless, I send the sincere advice to Daddy-oh! . . . get out of the hospital and back on the Whaler and enjoy your summery winter.  Oh yeah…and no bunking!

Its been snowing for what feels like weeks and I vacillate between feeling safe and insulated and outright suffocation.  This could mean that I’m overdue for some winter fun in the Wonderland or maybe I was just spoiled by the tepid Florida sun.  The snow is beautiful but its also wet and cold and slippery as hell.  Tonight I feel protected by the vast, white blankets though also not…also a little cold.  Mostly I’m just worried about my Pop and, as is the case when you’re far from the ones you love, a little helpless.

I’ve known mornings
white as diamonds
silent from a night so cold
such a stillness
calm as the owl glides
our lives are buried in snow

I was sifting through the piles
in my hand a tangled thread
each patient tug upon the snarl
is a glimpse of what has been

burdened bands gain strong hands
gaping holes where diamonds should be
must have been morning that stole them
a glint of white in the pocket of winter

and some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters
just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones

some hearts are ghosts settling down in dark waters
just as silt grows heavy and drowns with the stones

I’ve known mornings
white as diamonds
silent from a night so cold
such a stillness
calm as the owl glides
our lives are buried in snow

our lives are buried in snow