Montreal Musings

Downtown Montreal
on a quiet Sunday evening
February, 
winter resilient
clings to window panes

wind howling down Sherbrooke 
streets deserted,


cafes filled with students,
eyes fixed on glowing screens
preparing
for far off
Destinies
 
And I, 
a lone mother

walk gingerly 
through the slush

Hugging this city
That my child inhabits


 

A room, my own

As I sit in a kitchen 

slowly lightened 

By Rashmee , 

the rays of the sun

I realize perhaps this sister

Wasn't talking

of physical rooms

 at all

Maybe she spoke of room

To feel, 

to observe, 

to be

Just me

And perhaps to write

With the indelible ink

Of experience 

and ways of knowing

So far silenced

And to say to myself 

first with conviction

I know because 

this

Was my journey

My map 

and my story

I carry my room within me

Today

Never again 

Will I be without room

To tell my stories

Grade 2 magic- just for a day

On a snowy, slushy day
Winter's last hurrah

I walked to the school
that my son attended years ago

And lost my heart to

The sweet questions
And proffered gifts
Of 7 year olds

Paper butterflies,
Shining eyes

Maybe someday, mine
A primary classroom!

Primary pleasures

From 6 am 
with a window sill
covered in snow

To trees laden
And streets deserted
And lots of sunshine
And smiles

Where a few plastic sticks
Become a snowflake
A tree and a spinner

Exupery smiles

Truth and reconcilation...Again?

After the soul searching
And the deep thought
Comes the standing up
And heavy lifting
So that a hundred years later
Some half dead apology
Is not issued to the people
We harm today