For Papa Joon

L Ross Gallery

in the garden
i am not alone
where summer's rain 
bounces on blades of grass
i listen to the voice
of the goldfinch that 
glints on a distant branch

i hear Presence
Who dances with me
in the drizzle 
and Spirit's movement
inspires me so 

the rain turns
into quiet tears 
then joyful howls of the Sun
and the Light beams 
from my heart and i know
i am not alone


Daughters of Rutgers

junior year at Rutgers 
our first apartment off campus
inherited from floormates a year older 
our first time
we did it together
 . . . 
our attempt at a homecooked meal
falafel with fava beans
soaked first then mashed 
no food processor in 1992
the aroma of onions, parseley, red pepper, 
salt and cumin
filled our two-bedroom flat
 . . .
almost like Sally's lebanese restaurant 
in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn
my roommate spoke of 
her family's legendary feasting tradition
. . . 
crisp fattoush salad
ingredients from the local co-op 
where she rented a plot of land for veggies
lettuce, cucumber, red onion, grape tomates, 
radishes, mint, lemon
so fresh we could taste the dirt and 
the rainwash from the produce
and pita chips from the middle eastern bakery 
on george street
. . . 
breaking bread together in our first apartment
relishing our strength and independence
and sister love on the banks of the ol' Raritan
. . .
'tis then the daughters of Rutgers meeting
brush mould'ring dust from mem'ry's screens
and deep in faith renew our greeting,
for love we bear to Queens'