New York City, Christmas 2016

Christmas Day 2016, Rockefeller Center

Christmas Day 2016, Rockefeller Center

On Christmas day I went to Rockefeller Center to poem the holiday crowd. At one point I noticed a young lady with beautiful red hair standing alone looking at her phone. After about five minutes, I called to her,
"Hey, do you want a poem or what?" 
"No, No Thank You."
I said, "What, do you have an allergy?"
She said, "No I have no money."

I said, "No worries. Let's do a poem."

She said, "No, that's ok. I'm good."

I said, "Well you can at least afford me the pleasure of generosity on this day of giving."

She agreed and we had a sweet conversation about being alone on Christmas. I had recalled for her my Christmas of 2014. I was alone in Washington Heights. I didn't mind so much; I had lot's of poem related stuff to do. Still there is always an inherent sadness that leaks into an empty Christmas. So at one point that day I clicked onto Facebook and saw that I had a single solitary new fan on my page:

Her name was Margaret Kelly (my mom's name, who had died about 18 months before), there was no profile picture, no background picture, and the only information on the page was that she had gone to Sarah Lawrence (a school I know nothing of) and that her most recent "like" was....Angel Poems.

That just stopped me still. I stared at that screen from at least a minute.

Though the spirit of my father has been present in my creative process since the very get go, my mother NEVER was. She simply never made it into the poems...ever.
The week after that Christmas of 2014, when Margaret Kelly became my fan, my mom showed up in the poems. With sweet tears, she arrived, however briefly, into three or four poems that week. It was nice to have her there .
This sweet red headed lady said I should probably write a poem about that. So....
My mom was never in the poem
not the she wasn't invited
but more that she just never was.....

Until that particular day
out of some strangers interest
found herself welling up
in the eyes of the poem

It was beautiful of her to drop in
tears that splat on the page
bringing me flowers like rain
then gone
back to the ether

That is how it is sometimes
on the occasion
out of nowhere at all
love taps your tender heart
delivering touching knowing
you are never alone