Prayer for Not Enough

       –for my daughter, after Newtown

Today felt slow in a good way. I tried
to look around at the world,
its brittle and half-busted beauties,
burst milkweed pods and sumac gone
to ruddy seed on the trail. I tried
to catch fragments of passing conversations–

      Hi, pumpkin pie
      Honey do you mind if I
     Just tell me no already
     Please don’t do that to me

I tried to feel the breeze,
feet against gravel,
think of poetry,
breathe.

My daughter said, “If it’s not enough, it’s still enough,”

so we whisked that emulsion by hand
for a very long time,
our arms around it, our bodies inside of it.
It was just a small thing
I could do, a sweet, continuous release.

In the last week I have dreamed about drowning,
the house burning to the ground and losing
control of my car, driving it off of a bridge
and into the ocean.

I have no idea what any of this means,
but I know I cannot bear this news.

I cannot bear it.

O, Girl, deliver us from our stupidity,
our ugliness we don’t quite understand.

Help us if you can.

Be bold, Girl.
Everything around you is beautiful
and broken, something to slow down for.

C’mere, Girl, and let me kiss you

     yes, yes and yes

Remember kindness, touch
memory, hope hard for peace
and yielding—

That we may find a new beginning in your hands.