no poem today...instead i am random and inconcise...

easter is over
the long weekend done
back to work in the morning...

i am happy and quiet and full of solitude tonight
and tangible silence
{but wordy in my own head}
{if that makes sense}

{i feel like posting but i don't feel like talking}

i spent the day today just hanging with my 15 year old
bright and shiny girl...talking and napping and
giggling and sharing...and it was good.

the laundry didn't get done
and neither did the dishes
but i wouldn't have traded this afternoon
for any amount of money...

these small moments of
imperfect and unexpected connections...
these are the moments
that i guard and i steal and i hoard
like tiny bits of sweet sunshine
for the days that feel like the rain
will
never
ever
go
away
and i will never be warm again...

and then she surprises me
by leaning in close,
by lingering after supper to share stories,
by tickling and crawling into the bed
between her dad and me
to watch silly chocadooby videos on his iphone...

and i'm warm and happy and basking in her sunshine smile.

Disbelief...

I did it.

I finally
actually
really
effing
did
it.

I
stood
up there
in front of a mic
in front of other people
in front of other writers
and
I read something
of
my
own.

out loud.

and it was so much fucking harder than i ever thought it would be.

but
I did it

and someday
I might even do it again

(and the best part?
that when I finished reading my first piece
a woman in the audience
called out
"more! more!")

a favorite poem...

a long time ago
i read a poem on liz elayne's blog
that has stuck with me 
ever since.
the poet is thomas lux...

The People of the Other Village

hate the people of this village   
and would nail our hats
to our heads for refusing in their presence to remove them
or staple our hands to our foreheads   
for refusing to salute them
if we did not hurt them first: mail them packages of rats,
mix their flour at night with broken glass.
We do this, they do that.
They peel the larynx from one of our brothers’ throats.
We devein one of their sisters.
The quicksand pits they built were good.
Our amputation teams were better.
We trained some birds to steal their wheat.
They sent to us exploding ambassadors of peace.
They do this, we do that.
We canceled our sheep imports.   
They no longer bought our blankets.   
We mocked their greatest poet   
and when that had no effect   
we parodied the way they dance
which did cause pain, so they, in turn, said our God
was leprous, hairless.
We do this, they do that.
Ten thousand (10,000) years, ten thousand
(10,000) brutal, beautiful years.

i'm not sure what it is about this poem that draws me in...
the brutal beautiful language, 
the short succinct sentences...
the haunting truth...
but i know it stuck with me
and that's when i know i love a poem...
when years later
i remember having read it
and go on a mad search trying to find it....
what about you?
have a favorite poem...
please share...
i'd love to hear it...