I Dreamed of Heritage




I felt your hand

on my shoulder

last night


as we looked

over the land

grown up with weeds

briers and trees.


We stood

side by side,

knowing the fight

that lay before us,


to find Daddy’s treasures

before the fire consumed them

and bring them safely home.


As we rambled over hills

and raced through valleys

my foot got stuck in hole; I fell.


Flames licked at me,

would have engulfed me

if you had not turned back

and stretched out your hand.


You pulled me up

even though I smelled of smoke

again we ran, our bags heavy

and filled with treasures,


home was just beyond

the mist.




I make no claims

of brilliance or elegance

only of white walls

and handmade furniture


of lavenders blooming

and roses climbing

outside my window,

even in winter


I know of tadpoles and lizards,

snakes and crayfish

of flint rocks and red clay

passion fruit and sumac berries.


I have tasted sand,

caressed hawk feathers

and scarred my knuckles

while building barbed wire fences


I walked the halls of academia,

succeeded, so they tell me,

because of my memory

and ability to read people


but somehow I have failed

to understand the appeal

of leather cases, concrete,

high heel shoes


and gray wool skirts.


Internet People


In a place
I’ve never seen,
across an ocean
and a couple of continents,
you live among temples
and dark-eyed children
married to
an Asian queen
with warm copper skin,
a voice of porcelain bells,
and soft tiny feet

or maybe
you live alone
in an outback desert
with west winds
combing your hair,
biting your back,
refusing to let you
forget where you’ve been.

A man or a woman,
you’re a mystery to me
in a world I’ll never see
and still, mostly,
I just wonder

what you look like,
the color of your hair
if you have any.
To one born without sight
it wouldn’t matter
but because I was not
I can’t see you
when I close my eyes.