I couldn't find the right title for this poem. It will most likely come after I press publish!
I keep sighing.
Audible, animal, the people around me
worry they are the cause.
It is true, one has a slipped disc,
another, a herniated heart.
I breathe deeply for them,
as in moments they can’t.
Today I was in a writing group.
The woman next to me wore lipstick
called Unicorn Tears,
her lips were metallic pastel pink.
Across from me another
had a mother of pearl turtle around her neck,
it was big, like a real baby reptile
just hatched out of a rubbery shell.
A third woman wore a scarf
woven with silver threads,
from Wal-mart, she claimed proudly.
We think we should get happy again,
when often what is required
is sinking under for a moment,
then perhaps taking a shower,
placing one phone call
for now, just that.
Other days it is gathering symbols
for virtual talismans,
in my pockets are turtles, silver strands,
and the possibility of
release from mythical creatures.
I once heard there are orders of business-
my business, your business
and God’s business.
Current events fall in the third category.
My dear ones’ aorta and spine live in the second.
We can’t help but hyperventilate
when the world feels broken.
Mother Teresa said our work
is not to be successful, but to be faithful.
This would be our first occupation
and reminds me it is enough
to attempt love today.
I was asked by one of the writers
if the word nurturing is spelled with u-r, u-r.
I heard “Is nurturing you are, you are?”
That’s what my sighs have been saying,
you and I, because of and in spite of
our suffering, we are.