I have learned I become blind
the first moment it is spotted
I have also learned of fumbling
eyes shut through the dark
But I Am Here
How silent must I be
and for how long
Sometimes so silent
sometimes so distant
I could become air
I could disappear
Gewurztraminer
I was afraid that if I planted grapes
they would grow beyond my control
(a healthy grape vines up so quickly)
or might not rise at all from my soil
(adapted from an essay written April 24, 2018)
Ten Years
I inherited his eyebrows
I got his jawline too, but
didn’t know it until long
after he was gone, when
one day Mom sent me a
photograph of their early
adventures; seeing him
also in his 30s, I thought
I am a girl version of him
To reach the point when
we can narrate our story
objectively, rather than
remember only to grieve
Ten years will do that
(adapted from an essay written February 19, 2018)
Confession
Six years later
it’s safe to say
I drew your face
inside my book
to serve as means
of seeing you
when I was not
allowed to look
(Written around 2010)
Colette Kay 