Kaleidoscope

Part I
Born
cherished daughter
of mighty triumvirate:
Willy and wife, and Erin go bragh.

Blazed
a burning path
through leafy, protective canopy
of the forested days of childhood,

branding
a readiness
for everything
onto a hopeful heart.

Beautiful.


Part II
Newness
in new world.
Statuesque lady
rising from sapphire song
of salvation: greetings!

New Yorkness
now coursing red-bloodedly
through shamrock-rooted veins,
adding verve to earthy elegance,
and lyric to lovely melody.

Newtonian,
the fall must follow
ascent of family into fray, for
White Dove of mourning flutters,
ushering in the dawn of grieving.

New ranking.


Part III
Fatherless,
but infused
with eons of feisty courage,
spectators step forward
in crisp clicks o’er
hardened sidewalks of hard work.

Fateful
the meeting of many men
the keeping of one kept friend
the sisterly chain of sustenance
the daughterly lock on loyalty
the womanly blossom of love.

Fence
upon which to watch…
there he sits.
Dreaming. Desiring. Daring.
With small white card he introduces
the era of the rest of her lifetime.


Part IV
Posting
a trot now for a ride in the moonlight,
the mountains weave misty miracles of
potent, ecstatic possibilities.
He rides bareback,
holding tightly the tiny waist
sitting saddle before him.

Pride:
eternal parental prerogative
of partners creating
an explosive powerhouse
made with mind-full, emotional, musical miracles.
Montage in slow motion
before the sleepy eyes of darling decades.


Part V
Individuating
this hurdle to be scaled: separating
Siamese twins is always a tricky operation.
Columbus sailed oceans of treacherous loss
and came ashore just to bury, in new land,
the robbed seedlings of yesterday’s promise.
So, the focus became celestial,
and feet trod heavily down the tear-soaked soil.

Immurement
behind crashed and crushing walls.
The swords of hurtling accusations jab
pointedly through vulnerable hearts,
slashing years from mid-lifeline.
Gaping holes yawn derisively from that calendar.
Half-dozen, plus and minus, good eggs remaining
try to scramble up solutions for the heartbroken.

Immunogenetics
the new branch of family medicine
as kidlings nurture wounded parent birds.
Then,
fly south on mending wings!
Fly south and build anew
portable nests for few.
Soar on the crazy currents of fresh skies.

Part VI
Lightly
flutter the snowbirds now,
and lightly you dance with shoulders squared,
for light must you be upon your feet
to keep abreast of new callings.
Baby Birds coming
but The Little Ones learning to fly; and
the challenge is to hold on to your heart
while you loosen your hold over theirs.

Let’s
travel then, to new places and old
and take a van full of love where e’er we go.
Let’s shake out the highlights -
give it the old college try –
in panoramic review made by misty eyes.
Two hearts full to bursting,
much work still to be done, many canvases to brushstroke -
but the bloomin’ clock is now booming more loudly.

Losing
as losses pile knee high, and you fall prostrate
in supplication but the pain keeps on creeping – to the spine – to the throat –
free-falling pain, like April showers,
pain that will smote
with one light-yellow jonquil
the sunshine right out of your day.
Pale gray shrouds his blue orbs in a low-lying fog,
telling us it is time to make him the life-movie.

Lost.
He is lost.
But not really.
You know where he is.
It is we who are roaming,
still wondering, ever wandering.
We who are missing: missing him; missing them.
Marble-heart is dropped into boiling water once more –
crackling the cat eye inside.

Part VII
New
newness.
Gotta get through this.
Ride gently on the wings of our love.
Rest your overflowing heart
(bigger than most from the start)
here, on our needs. Let us carry you.
Let us know you.
Intersect your memory lane
at the corners of homes you helped construct.


Turn the kaleidoscope most reverently in your hands.
See how it holds every nuance of color,
so that even the rainbow fairies are jealous.
Brightly colored every moment and treasure,
twirling inside here, in a never-ending dance,
choreographed from high above.

Turn gently the memories in your mind.
Trust the kaleidoscope of your life and loves
to be real.
They are real.
They are good.
They are beautiful.

It is your Kaleidoscope.
And
it is ours
to behold,
and gaze upon,
and cherish.