word of the day is Tethered

word of the day is tethered 

tethered to this raucous raging rioting ball of earth

screaming soundlessly through the universe

sound less in the larger sense of the word,

but sound is its own unique energy

even tho it cannot be heard 

in space

I read Adrienne Rich’s obit today in the times

she was my hands down favorite poet 

who taught me how to love words

love poems

who taught me that poems do not have to be sparse and bloodless

ancient and sacred and soundless

my father is dying and I have not written of it

I consider how when one loses a parent 

at no other time is one more of a child

except than in childhood

but in childhood we are not self aware

we do not walk around thinking this is how a child feels

this is how a child perceives the world

when a parent dies, one is keenly aware of one’s core


howling in grief.

confused and vulnerable and alone. 


for there is no longer that parent with whom to dialog. 

I use the correct grammatical structure for 

my father, the professor, who would appreciate it. 

although he no longer hears me. 

how does one reconcile this loss

this new category of loss

is it a new loss 

another acceptance, another resignation ( the hebrew meaning of my name is resignation)


is it connected to all of the other less evitable losses.

can it  be reconciled with out ever reconciling those earlier

willful or indifferent losses

must they all be categorized and counted and itemized and pondered and spoken and witnessed and forgiven and forgiven and forgiven

or do they simply become part of the fabric that we wrap ourselves in

part smoke and desire, part addiction and more or less the scar tissue of 

unspoken woundings, the warp and weft of collusion and collision

and some accidents are beautiful 

and some are too painful to navigate alone

or can we build our own new boats and travel across soundless space

to gain a new understanding, 

where words are remembered as the rustle  of leaves

and prayers are faithful  ambassadors pulling on the oars

these things I consider as I pull into traffic to drive my child to school, as I try to remember how to operate the new coffee pot,

as I think about the sequence of events that must occur to get me out of the house and to work, dress, train ticket , wallet, book, phone, sneakers, food, money, time;

all  mundane earthly needs, that I add to the equation

as I plot the course of my escape 

from this planet of toil and cacophony 

to which I am still inexplicably tethered.