Knotted Hands

There’s a dusty dollhouse in the basement.
A birthday present for a grandniece
you knew was too young to know the value.
You made it with your hands,
Hands that used to know the wood.
Many growth rings later,
I wonder if you have forgotten how.
Do you miss the roar of the ban saw
or the rhythm as you whittled?
Your knuckles contorted,
branches twisting upward.
My favorites were the tulips
that fit in my small and clumsy hands.
You made them for Aunt Virginia.
I haven’t seen them since she passed.
Ash trees to ashes.
Sawdust to dust.
Hands that once bent nature,
Now Nature bends and leaves dusty,
like the dollhouse in the basement.

Costs of Conflict

I saw War when I was young;
it found me where I lived.
Two sides conflicted in close quarters,
Vying for a homeland.
A battle raged from nothing,
Quiet is never peace.
Atom Bombs in the family room
Nightmares in my sleep.
Mother's tears fell like Agent Orange
and Father's words were napalm.
Be careful where you step;
Verbal land mines in the backyard.
I made a shelter out of blankets
but it didn't muffle sound.
My reinforcements crumbled.
Surrender, Surrender…
"You're a brave little soldier,"
they would say
but I didn't want this fight.
Papers were signed but there's no treaty.
I am a refugee from my own home
where we marked my height on the wall.
You can't take that with you.
My homeland is occupied now;
they have painted over my name.
War has a heavy price to pay
but you ask me "what’s the cost?"

Ohdee

We carried you home in a big brown box.
I was small and you were smaller.
My black n' white puppy, crying out next to me
in the backseat of our old red van.
We named you Our Dog.
I cupped your small body in my little hands,
Smiling at you in your big box,
I tickled your nose with my long brown hair
And you stopped your crying
Just as, years later, you tickled my toes
with your rough tongue when I cried.
We grew up together;
You grew old alone.

When I was ten, you bite me.
Our brother jumped on you from the monkey bars.
I forgave you the scar on my wrist
before you even begged.
A year later was the fever
that shook our brother late at night.
I held you tight as the sirens sounded,
locked in my room of pink.
We learned unconditional love together;
I learned to say "goodbye" alone.

I remember the first tumor.
I remember when you limped.
I remember the darkness in your eyes
And the first time I called
but you did not come.
I hugged you because I knew.
So I immortalize you with my words.
We learned pain together;
You learned release alone.