Geneaology

Holding Hands
2009

My grandfather’s hands reach through the thick
Steam clouds of America’s great iron horses.
Strong, weathered hands covered in the black crust
Of coal dust immune to hot water and lye suds.

Our fingertips have never met over the years and
Tears that flow over the calluses and carpal tunnel.
A daughter’s freedom fight waged against the Old country
Rigidity and bigotry smothered the familial, and losers all.

Yet, so much of me is scorched by the railroad steel and
The Pennsylvania soil toiled by Germanic stoicism.
I am he, cupped in those battered hands that reach silently.
He is me, flowing through fingertips onto stark silence.

Mute stoicism brands us through the centuries with
Destruction still to the familial, with only the hope that
Past century’s lessons learned will last, and at last
Conquer the stubborn Attila the Hun barbarianism.

New Years Day-2010

The Dawn of the New

Cherished silence post revelry
Blue moon shimmers over still waters
Chosen solitude refreshes and reminds
Whispers that all is well, past and future

I await the dawn of the new
Rising on plentiful dreams and possibilities
Whether sunshine or clouds
The movement is perpetual

Beneath the coldness of winter
Wrapped in sparkling hoarfrost
Plump and juicy ripe fruits
All await the dawn of the new

The day blooms in nurtured bonds
Essentials of existence meted thru
A shared exchange of gifting
The body wearies yet the spirit exalts

Dusk lowers on satiated slumber
Dreams drift in delicious ease
Gathered together effortlessly
To await the dawn of the new