swing low

squat behind the tiny swingset

split the skinny trees

pink and purple sweatsuit smiling girl

your mouth as if you’re saying something funny

behind you concrete wall and splitting trees

leaves on the ground chill in the sky

your mouth as if you’re saying something funny

my smile as if no one will ever die

you left me on the ground      gone          to chill in the sky

cause swingsets swing us only but so high

my smile as if no one will ever die

knows everything and nothing at one time

cause swingsets swing us only but so high

and chariots will come for numbered days

show everything and nothing at one time

the laughing man will wither         fade away

and chariots come for his numbered days

the smiling girl will cry and say not yet

the laughing man will do his best to stay

the curve of life is sure the swing is set

My father passed away the October my first single-authored book came out. This is us also in October on my first swingset, branded by Crayola. Another form of writing, near a wall that will not stop being a wall. What I see in my face is the innocence of not knowing how the pendulum swings and the joy of my father’s silliness. My father, who would make up songs and speak in funny voices. I am grateful for the rhythm of these poems for reaching back. So not single authored after all. Swing low sweet Dad. I hold you in the process and the poems. I love you with my laughter and my tears.

P.S. My every day writing practice shapes my days into vessels for generations of love. If you want support with your own daily creative practice, I’d love to be part of your journey. This is the Stardust and Salt Daily Creative Practice Intensive.