So...I haven't written a poem since July...which really is Not Okay. I pleaded with the good people of Facebook to give me things to write about. One friend gave me permission to write about the story below.
This is for her, and for M, and for all the people in my village.
Emoticons, for when words fail us
Facebook update number 1:
My friend's 3-year-old daughter is watching their wedding video.
She sees Mommy so beautiful and Daddy so handsome,
dances wildly in the living room as though
dancing at weddings was her favorite thing, and she
would have been the life of the party
if only she had been invited.
Facebook update number 2:
"Her new ambition is to be a flower girl."
"We gotta get this kid to a wedding. She's got moves."
Facebook update number 3:
"Mommy, who's that dancing with Papa?"
"Oh....that's my grandma?
She needs to come out of the TV so I can hug her."
Comment number 1 (unposted):
I wish I knew the magic that could make that happen.
I would give it to you.
All of it.
Comment 2 (unposted):
I don't know how to be a grandma.
Or a mom.
Or even a really good friend sometimes,
I mostly just know how to be this being with two hands and a too-big heart
that bumbles around trying to find a way of making them fit
and I know it's not the same
that's not what I'm trying to say, so....
Comment 3 (unposted):
Look, most days, I don't know shit
about how we humans get from one day to the next
but I know something about high-fives,
and a little bit about the ways we use our hands to
praise, dry tears, change diapers,
to soothe mama worries,
about the ways we use our hearts to talk hard things,
and the way doing brave things makes us badass,
or so fucking scared,
and how some things
have 11 obstacles
even when you only see 10;
and I can't be a grandma, or a mom,
or a fairy godmother with a magic wand to bring someone out of the television set,
or even a person with much more two hands and a too-big heart most days --
but your daughter's face is the one I picture when I hear the words "it takes a village,"
and I know nothing
of the hole grief has ripped in your heart
are in my village
and in my village
we belong to one another
and there is no such thing
as other people's children.
Comment number 4 (unposted):
Sorry that's so long.
I told you that thing about my heart, right?
It doesn't fit in this
social media format.
Comment number 5 (posted):
<3 <3 <3 <3