Wonderwork

A new old bench I’ve never sat on before
Hugged the creek in bare wood and lore
Worn plaque engraved in memory of Jared
Overlooking the meandering water

He must have loved this spot, like me
His family loved him, clear to see:
“We love your spirit, with wings and winds
Of wonderwork — June 26th, 1971”

The water ripples in dancing silver streamers
Lit under the same sun that has always shone here
The same rocks cradle its flow
To an ocean open to catching below

Rushing — in no hurry — takes its time
Always and never the same
Constantly replaced by new molecules
Mistaken as static and standing still

I am Jared now,
or is he me

Pausing a moment,
we two breathed

I am the river,
or is it me

In tracing trails
forever is revealed

I am the bee
I am the sun
I am the fallen leaf
I am the ocean

~ Emily C.
8.26.17

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Mug

Frozen feet stood at attention,
the wind sucked the door —
slammed it shut, cut
circulation.

daze broken in violence
the shudder shook the mug
out the cupboard it danced,
falling on

the jewelry dish
in slow motion it landed,
crashed; no cushion
in the checkered linoleum

as it fell
so did the memories

of Hawaii when we were young
of free souvenirs from Hilo Hattie
“Here, take 4!” They said.
we took 4, knowing we had

no room in the suitcase
it was hard to lug home
those memories
heavy, that bag
the times

we drank from them
objects of a simpler life
when we didn’t need much
but each other

slow motion it fell
like our need for each other
what’s one less mug?

frozen, standing:
thinking if I rush I can catch it
if I leap I can stop it
maybe it won’t break
(it broke)

but gravity and time
conspire
against me, us

what’s one less mug?
what’s one more day?
is there a difference,
will you notice anyway
when you come home?

I notice
why don’t I care?
do I? I guess I do…
enough to feel sad
about the mug

~ Emily C.

8.25.17