Kathryn Gahl

Archive for the ‘Connection’ Category

O My Love

In Anxiety, Connection, LOVE, Mindfulness, Terrorism on June 13, 2016 at 8:58 pm

the night is not very big
a few hours only
of magic on that side
of Orlando midnight
pulsing music
and transcendent dance
when arms reach heaven
like light

except for you
the stranger

did you never feel
the reality of renewal
were you wary of those who did
when did you dig
the dark grave of hate

if you had been open
I could have shown you
the lark in your throat
the silly in your limbs

I could have taken you
to the Love Lock Bridge
you would have liked it
the dance of love, the soul in strobe

but you with your
twisted resistance
and gunning gaze

now look
what you’ve done

Love Locks

The Wall

In Anxiety, Connection, Humor, Mindfulness, Weighing In on May 18, 2016 at 12:07 pm

Some days
it feels like you’re
holding up the wall

Other days
it feels like the wall
holds you

Either way, be glad:
you are upright,
reaching

The Wall

For Sale

In Connection, Consumerism, LOVE on May 11, 2016 at 1:03 pm

FOR SALE

Organic kale, a cute Cape Cod, candles, ferry rides, CDs, DVDs, kites, Island Fudge.

None of these have I for sale.

No pipe dream, no dare to dream, no Just Say No or the latest of the best: Just Say Yes.      No marketing scheme, donor wall, hidden agenda, theater tickets, attitude adjuster, happy pill, or pleasure potion.

None of these can you buy in the marketplace of my heart                                                      where the only product is presence.                                                                                                                                                                                    I am here.  You are here.    I hear you. You hear me.   You be.   I  be.

We look, listen, and mine our feelings while we build connection–                                        a wonder that cannot be bought.

 

 

WHAT SHALL WE CALL HIM?

In Connection, LOVE, Parenting, Uncategorized on May 4, 2016 at 7:39 pm

Traveler                                                                                                                                                       Talker                                                                                                                                                      Sojourner of the soul                                                                                                                                  who carried grief and woe                                                                                                                          the wet sun, a cloudy moon

Yet                                                                                                                                                                      his eye sparkled                                                                                                                                             his ear heard your every tone

His life almost too big to contemplate                                                                                                       Complications arranged like                                                                                                                                 chess pieces, baskets of tulips, basketballs on the bounce                                                         while he walked tall                                                                                                                                      for he is . . .

A sunny path on summer’s day                                                                                                                 Autumn colored with cheer                                                                                                                           A comfort in winter’s chill                                                                                                                             The spring in hope’s step

A Man For Every Reason

And so, we call him Owen:                                                                                                                                      brave, gallant, greathearted                                                                                                                           a force born                                                                                                                                                                  with a damn good sense of humor

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY SON

Warrior

Certain Nights

In Connection, LOVE, Storytelling on April 26, 2016 at 7:59 pm

The Drawcertain nights will be                                                                                                                                         recalled more than others

the night your mother gave birth                                                                                                                                                                                            the caterwaul before the glory

the night of skinny-dipping                                                                                                                                 waves lapping you like live massage

the night you drove through                                                                                                                                home calling, pulling, singing

the night that was so dark                                                                                                                                        you could not find yourself

the night of spring peepers                                                                                                                          promising to make love ruined renewed

and then, that night when footlights                                                                                                               glittery as diamonds shined on your story

 

Of Brussels 22 March 2016

In Connection, LOVE, Terrorism on March 22, 2016 at 9:08 pm
I knew you when rain fell
like pearls on your cobbled
sidewalks, a skinny doorway 
where the streetlight smelled
of the sea, Chimay beer,
Dover sole, where the alleys
and shops were safe as sleep
warm as sex

where trains ran on time
and we all took time for one another
to enjoy a joke or a smoke,
where I waved to you from the
plane, promising we'd be
together again soon
when we would hold hands
and stroll in the afterglow of
being connected
which we were--a rare and 
beautiful feat to say I knew 
you and I loved you
     just the way you were