Cleaning Up After
Thanksgiving’s Feast Memories
Floating in the Air
Brushing Crumbs Off the
Counter Into My Cupped Hand
Just Like My Mom Did
My Hand a Shadow
Of Hers, Lit By Her Joy in
Feeding Her Loved Ones
Radiating Across
The Years, Undimmed, to Warm Me
Despite Time’s Cool Gaze
Category: Memories
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For Fran Nahabedian 1953-2024
Where to Start? Or How?
When All We Feel is the Loss
Endless and Numbing
Start With Her Story
Start With the Deep Kindness And
Maybe We Can Breathe
And Then Breathe Again
Her Delight in Friends Delight
Shining Bright And Warm
Yes, Start There, One Step
And Then Another, and Her
Full Of Care Watching
To Be Seen By Fran,
To Remember Being Seen
Lights A Forward Path.
So Yes, Pain And Grief
She’s Gone Ahead And We, We
Must Linger, Must Wait
Held In The Bright Light
The Enduring Warmth, The Care
And Love Undimmed By Time
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The Archaeologist’s Dilemma
Just Because Our Past
Is Writ in Stone Does Not Mean
It’s Less Mysterious -
Bernie Franke 1923-2023
I Could Wish for a Heart of Stone, a Beauty From The Earth’s Rocky Bones Revealing to Him Mysterious Natural Grace, The Passage of Time Yes, a Heart of Stone As he Saw Stone Would be a Blessing and a GiftEven as Winter
Blurs My Summer Memories
The Sun Still Shines
All Our History
Is Shared. Each of Us Wants It
Unique, Ours AloneWe turn to Glory
And Away from Blood Until
We are OverwhelmedTaken by the Chaos
Of Forgotten Memory
And We Cannot BreatheAs That Memory
Weaves our Shared Tapestry More
True than Any FactFull of Glory and
Our Bloody Hands, Survived By
Our Forgiving HeartsRemembering Kent State
Now Fifty Years On
We Still Argue in Guns and
Violence and HatredWill We Never Learn
To Answer With Something More,
Different, Beautiful?Trade Violence For Calm,
Hear Hatred With Love, Guns with
More than Blood and BreathA New Kind of World,
Not One Gone All Blind In a
Furious Eye for EyeSalvation Is Ours,
Found Only With Gentle Hands
Open Hearts, and Time
Dough From My Own Hands
Fresh Baked, Sliced and Buttered Tastes
of Generations
First My Mother’s Bread
Baked Each Friday, Fragrance Fills
The House After School
And My Father’s Rolls,
Cinnamon and Butter and
Dough, Fried and Frosted
And, Like a Story,
Grandma’s Cookies, Soft, Sweet and
Rationed, Sneak Cookies
So My Bread Tastes of
Generations, Leavened With
Love and Memory
One Plus One, A Spark
Breathes Light and Warmth, Tone and Sense
Across All These Years
This Day, First Things First
Surprise, Delight, Gratitude
For Our ConnectionGrief Unpacked Its Bags,
A Sudden and Unwanted Guest
With No Plans to LeaveLoss on Every Shelf
Sorrow in Every Drawer
Pain Beneath the BedWe Could Not Quite Breathe
Wondering if That Moment
Might Not Ever EndBut Time Does Still Pass
And Grief Turned Towards Us With
All Its Open HeartAnd We Also Found
Among the Sorrow and Loss
A Shining HonorThe Consolations
Of Shared Memories, the Breath
Of Persistent LoveSo It Turns Out That
This Life is not Perfect and
Grief is not a GuestBut Our Souls do Rise
To Every Occasion and
Our Hearts Will Reach OutAnd We Will Carry
Honor, Memory, and Love
As We Find Our WayAllen Miller 1918-2015An Old Photograph,
Tattered Edges, Creased and Scratched
Faded and FuzzyBut She’s Turned Towards You
Smiling, And Your Joy Shines Through
All the Time That’s PassedLighting Memories
That Float and Glow Like Fireflies
In the Late Evening
As Time Burns Away
The Dross of Memory, You Shine
Brighter and Brighter
Chasing Comets with Davi
Two Years of Driving
This Road In My Mind With You
Tonight Actually There
Shocking Accident,
My Presence Now, And Yours Then,
At The Tree’s Scarred Base
We Both Have Gone On
But Only I Can Return
And Wonder Why…
Memories Rise on
A Ripe Avocado’s Scent.
Florida, Lunch, and Mom
A Year in Haiku 