My Name

Who I am is not my name.

It is not my age either, although 

sometimes when I see myself

in a mirror I forget that all the 

years that have passed, all 

the hopes and dreams, all the

hurt and anger, have been 

busy writing on my skin.  There 

are no words, only lines, but 

each one leads to another; they

have a tale to tell of who I am.

That name they gave me

that I have been called 

since my natal debut?  It was

never mine to choose, only 

mine to cloak myself with

and answer to.  I have other

dreams and ideas of the girl 

I really am. Sacred and holy

names that make up who 

I am, secrets whispered in 

dreams, wisps of identity

emerging at midnight

under starry skies, or dancing 
on the face of dappled water,
fragments of myself beyond
names and letters.  I have 
traced the lines on my face, 
followed them down my cheeks
and into the necklaces of
time that ring my chest, looking
for the realest me.  Each decade has
brought a letter to my name.
Each heartache, every joy,
all that has been my life now
comes together to shuffle and
to finally arise as My Name.

Retreat

Make yourself out
of and in
to
love.

Give your
grace as
easily as a
breath.

Gently lay
your prayers
upon
the cosmos.

And relax.
All is well
and all
shall be well.

Driving Home

Here is what takes so long: Just getting
to today. Each moment that has had
to occur before today ever arrived in

its own form.  You could not have
predicted that it would look like it
does.  Last night I was driving home

after dropping my daughter off in
another city where she will live for
the summer.  Not too far along the

way the cars ahead had suddenly
slowed and braked and I did, too.
In the middle of the road, a fallen

deer, on its left side, struggling under
the confusing pain, its flank torn open
and its front legs pawing the air and

its head lifting and lifting as I drove
past and I felt immediately sad and
tears filled my eyes and I wished that

I could sit with the deer while it died
but I knew I would only frighten it
more; deer do not feel comfort from

humans.  I drove on in the night and
I remembered Pema Chodron saying
that we can breathe in the pain of

another and breathe out healing.  For
a long while I breathed in the pain and
fear of the deer and I breathed out

peace and comfort.  I did not wish
my children to know I had seen death
on the road.  Earlier I had seen a baby

deer lying dead on the side of I-94 but
I had not seen it before it died.  Already
dead, it was an inert object on the side

of the road.  I was thinking how life
is always individual and how I know that
because of death.  Each time something

or someone dies, it is specific and others
feel the effects of the flap of the butterfly's
wings.  If it had been a person in the road

would it have been enough to breathe in
pain and fear in those final moments?  And
then today came along and everything that

came before it had to occur for today to
arrive.  But today the other deer were missing
the one who died, and I am still missing you.