the Isabel way.
Write whatever wants to be written
grateful for the moment,
the moment that is.
Write the moment when the fall sky shatters
and the dark starts caving in.
Carve the moment when the clock ticks, the siren cries,
and the baseball flies across home plate.
Bury the moment which is scared, which is dying,
which is calling, which is mine.
And what is the moment
but silence anyway.
Look into the core
of the world, the steel of the eye.
Examine your father's face
and avoid the tragic
and find the magic.