by Kathleen MacGregor
Because his body sat itself down
And I could almost hear…
Because he thought he was alone, unwatched, unknown,
Because I was home and could afford
To spend some time,
I opened my arms and heart to him,
To us.
And because I did,
He spilled his worries and his sorrows-
The purple bags beneath his blue eyes,
His trembling hands,
All the things he doesn’t know
That he needs to learn
To...
read more
by Kathleen MacGregor
On Thanksgiving, when we all come together,
gathering up our stories and our stances
in our arms, like crops from the field;
When we come bearing insistent separateness,
proud individuality,
spilling our armloads clumsily all over each other,
because we have come with more than we can carry,
there is a grief.
The grief pours down from the
middle of us and
pools on the ground at our feet. We...
read more
