Pudgy Indian

I walked across that wonderful bridge known as the Burnside Bridge with my daughter this morning with the possibility of seeing my ex to give Felicia a present.

She wants to connect to our lives
She wants us to be part of hers
But she never did when we were there
and she let that be known.
Creating connections by gifts
and fear of force...
but the force has no power
not anymore
because I learned it takes two to tango (tangle)
and I decided to stop
that crazy dance
that my daughter
was caught in the
whirwinds of.

Our hair whips in the wind
as we stand on the sidewalk
of that bridge I Love so much
that spans the river
that I Love so much.
I Love the bridge
because I can more easily communicate
with my sister
that thousands pass over
and few honor.

"Watch this, dad," she says
and faces the wind
that whips her hair
like flames at a sweat lodge fire.
Fire of life,
fire of creativity,
fire of celebration...
We laugh
and enjoy the feirce
groping, frisking, hug, love, humor, communion.

We've made it out alive.
We're a bit bruised and damaged
in our spirits
but healing is a process
that seems to be working for us.
And the water passes beneath our feet
so fast
so powerful
so beautiful
and chocolate brown.
We make offerings
that are blown back in our faces
across the bridge
and to our sister,
the river.

We made it out alive,
and we have to laugh
because we are so good
at laughing.