dream

Whole, round, unending

new beginnings

bring too, an end.

a little note

This poem was written Sept. 18, 2005 at a sparse table, surrounded by strangers during a full moon tea celebration at Portland’s Japanese Gardens. Small pencils and scraps of paper laid out, full of potential, we were encouraged to write a Haiku: 5-7-5. Simple. Elegant.

At this point in my life, I had been trying to get pregnant for more than a year, I believe. I yearned for kids. When I first started trying with my husband, having a family wasn’t a dream, it was something I just expected would happen when the time was right for us. But it turned out, the time didn’t come effortlessly and the thought of a family became a dream—something out of reach and possibly impossible.

I titled this poem on Oct. 9, 2020.

Dream no more, a beautiful, complicated reality instead.