poems

Concerto In Three Movements

vabutsy poems 
I.	Inside
I read a poem and
Discover a new world
Soon replaced by newer worlds
Of me
Washing clothes
Writing words
Cuddling with Woody
I recreate myself moment by moment
Sometimes – often? – I
Fail to notice the new world
As it replaces the old

II.	Outside
Seasons change but
That is too grand a scale
To concern me here
Even the change of days is
A cosmos
I am concerned with 
The new worlds created
By the unique shape of a new word on a page
The delicate balance of a new bird on the feeder
The droning rhythm of the oscillating fan
Sometimes – often? – I
Fail to notice the new world
As it replaces the old

III.	Sideways
What then holds these changing worlds together?
What holds the old within the new?
The inside within the outside?
Not I, said the ego
Not I, said the cosmos
I AM WHO AM
Whispered, reverberating
Eternally

Lightness

vabutsy poems 





My spirit soars.
Mom and dad are both gone now.
And so all the uncertainty, anguish, disappointments and difficulties are gone.
All that remains is an incredible lightness of spirit.
Light not dark
Light not heavy
Floating brilliance
that is love
Unblemished















					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
Ruach

								

								 vabutsy
															poems					
												

					


				

			






My spirit soars.
Mom and dad are both gone now.
And so all the uncertainty, anguish, disappointments and difficulties are gone.
All the remains is an incredible lightness of spirit.
Light not dark
Light not heavy
Floating brilliance
that is love

					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
The yin and yang of this death

								

								 vabutsy
															poems, ponderings					
												

					


				

			

Mom died last night. So much sadness. She was over 100 years old and had quickly been lost to us over the last few months, drowned by vascular dementia. So much relief. My sisters and I have lost our mother. So much sadness. The youngest of us is 70 years old. So many wry smiles. Mom loved family and was our matriarch. So much sadness. All of Mom’s brothers and most of her cousins have been long dead. So much comfort. Mom’s body is now gone. So much sadness. But Mom’s strong faith means her spirit has soared right into her God’s always trusted arms. So much relief. Mom was a pioneering woman who was our inspiration. So much sadness. Mom was often difficult and demanding. So much relief. And so it goes. The yin and yang of this death. Curled tightly together in a sphere of love.

					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
A Butterfly Effect

								

								 vabutsy
															poems					
												

					


				

			






I just realized
I may be too old to march far
I may be too comfortable
too privileged
too sheltered 
(to use a pre-privileged expression)

But if I do what I can
Speak when I can
Share what I have

Then I am a cell
on the wing
of that butterfly
whose small wing flap
triggered a hurricane

					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
Litany for Mom

								

								 vabutsy
															poems, prayers					
												

					


				

			

Ernie, long-loved son-in-law,
Bring her home

Mark, valiant nephew,
Bring her home

Mike and Charlie,
Who knew chronic disabilities,
bring her home

Joe, Winnie Craig’s gorgeous pilot,
Bring her home

Mike, Chris, Joey
Gone too soon
Bring her home

Freddie, treasured godson,
Bring her home

DeeBoy, Irish twin,
Bring her home

Andre, brother and neighbor,
Bring her home

Donald, brother and priest,
Bring her home

Marcel, baby brother,
Bring her home

Daddy George, adored father,
Bring her home

Mere Noon and Mamman
Aunt Lydia, Aunt Winnie
Bring her home

Mere JC,
Tante Del, Tante Dele, Tante Lise,
Tante Née, Tante Georgine,
Bring her home

Forefathers and foremothers,
French and Cajun,
Mom’s own great cloud of witnesses,
Bring her home

Charlie, beloved and troubled husband,
Let her live in peace
Until she is called home.




					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
Our Mother’s Breasts

								

								 vabutsy
															poems					
												

					


				

			

I hated myself
No, that’s not quite right
I cursed my lack of self

Swaddled within the soft unyielding
Walls of the Holy Roman Catholic Apostolic —
Our Holy Mother —
The One, the only, the Church!

And what a mother she was
Those big firm breasts
Soft and unyielding 
Those generous nipples
Blushing roseola 
Swollen
Gazing straight at me
Promising eternal life if I
Just drank forever content
And sleepy, between those
Wondrous breasts

“Sshh, don’t cry out, dear child, don’t question
Here’s my nipple — drink deep and sleep —
As your Blessed Savior did —
Between my beguiling
Bewitching bedeviling breasts.”


					

		
		
	




			
				


	

		

					
My Hallelujah

								

								 vabutsy
															poems					
												

					


				

			

Hallelujah 
For silver-lighted leaves 
Of evergreen nandina 
In my neighbor’s backyard

Hallelujah 
For noisy silence of bossy cardinals
Like princes of the church
Trying – always – to claim exclusive ownership
Of the bird feeder outside our bedroom window

(Natural born patriarchs
With no discernible wisdom
But lots of self-assured hallelujahs)

Hallelujah for me
Though I be but a plain brown sparrow
Yet I continue to claim my equal right
To the feeder
Singing hallelujah 
For 77 years of perching
Feeding
Returning
Sharing 
Swaying bird feeders
Suspended from squirrel-proof poles