My Relationship With My Daughter
According to Planetary Influences
All her planets are in Earth signs.
She is rooted like a tree to the ground
While I—restless butterfly—am never
Still or quiet. I weave nests through
her branches, use her leaves as camouflage
from danger. A tree, this tree, holds steady:
no need to roam the earth when one is Earth.
No search for solid ground drives her. Fire
is anathema. Water flows freely above and
below. Only air does she long for.
Our mutual space has none.
Without air, no respite: we choke, claw
in futile struggle. For the blessings of
earth I would trade air on occasion
but she, needing none of my elements,
will not give up breathing.
Early risers catch the moon—
before daylight or
birds. Before the clouds return.
Before the clouds crossed the sky
I rose to watch the
full morning moon sink slowly.
Morning moon sinks slowly, her
light fading. Birds chase
her, singing madly, joyful.
Singing madly, joyful birds
chase the full morning moon
as heavily she sinks from view.
Full moon sinks heavily. I
mourn the loss of light
like every loss before.
Sleepers miss lesson conveyed
by morning moon:
Loss will come again soon.
The things I did, decisions I made, actions
I took: moving restlesly from one house,
town, city, job, lover, to another
in search of more and better but
every move turned out to be lateral—
–or collateral—leading to this
Worse, the things I did not do,
decisions I made to take no
action: allowing things to happen with a
shrug, pretending to be flowing
not knowing every shrug is assent—
leading to this empty endgame.
Of these, the action not taken
out of fear: denial, pretense,
turning away. The time the
Ku Klux Klan burned a cross in
the next town and I
continued my report
on the town’s new sewer