Heathrow

Moving fast, stuck inside my head
Temporarily freed by coffee and a call
The deluge of thoughts I can’t possibly organize or ignore
Suspended by the routine of security and unloading
Only to pack it all up again
What's it all for
Being alone with all these people
Passing delayed time reading on tarmacs
It might get bumpy
All communication silenced until coming back to life upon arrival
The world was trying to find us
Luxuriously captive no more
Irises scanned, the machine thanks me
Waiting for the carousel number
Exchanging smiles with a stranger and laughing at a kid
Things become my home - I’m happy to see them come around
And I’m leaving again with nothing to declare

Fortress

Green fields in a muggy summer haze
a long dirt road
young wheat the color of lavender
(was it purple before?)
I must not have seen it in spring

The pear tree’s gone, the apple tree too
I miss the honeysuckles and blackberries
and the thrill of the warning of snakes
that patio we’d run to soaking wet
and lay face down
leaving perfect prints of bodies that made us laugh

A 17-year fortress with 17 more of returns
so much I love
a bit I hate
its pretty
conflicted feelings about this place
and the people I love

I return and find myself vulnerable again
to the old things that brought comfort and fear
not within my control
sitting in a field under a private blue sky
with clouds rolling by as quickly as life
taking no notice of what’s below

But those stars at night
still the center of my universe
crickets and fireflies most adored
the place I get answers to questions not asked

When I return again that wheat will be gold
the cycle I depend on
that pulls me back
and keeps me same

Barcelona 4am

a dark stairway
lost in something beautiful
four flights of cool marble under bare feet
feels sublime, heels in hand
can't see but I feel
giant doors and wood worn like velvet
invisible arias
sun-drenched day, blue water, orange umbrellas
a long walk with a familiar friend
my green dress, lunch on the beach
gelato … more than I could eat
vale vale
work and more work, the stuff that brings me here
too little sleep
a slip
exhaustion and a headache
cured by coffee
balconies and clotheslines and enchanting winding alleys
mom talks through the phone
while I sit listening on a bench
wishing she could see this
the market and grotesque tomatoes from Verona
cobblestones, Gaudi and gothic lanterns
art and longing
Plaza Catalunya, the Metro to Fontana
evening in Gracia
people scattered across many squares
fireworks and devils
cold beer at a table outside
late night of comedy
in Spanish, only catching every eighth word
laughter and connection
a clocktower
Catalonia and dictators
there are many ways to do something right
so do it your way
chance and Paul Auster
our crisis
you really should send that letter
smokey bar and the old cigarette machine
beer in plastic cups at closing time
then out to the streets for a late-night stroll
her tribe
taxi back to Barrio Gotica
steadying the beer still in my hand
phone in the other
as I leave a voicemail
for someone not there
great cathedral and black sky
others walking home
peace, quiet, fresh air
it's morning
I'm blanc
anything is possible

Poem

She called it a picnic on the moon
I suppose she’s right
it may be wrong to be here
as children change
parents grow older
and wars intensify

The not belonging gives me place
brings me peace
floating weightless, free
on a moving sea
sometimes alone but never lonely

I share my blanket with a friend
the blackness illuminated
we look at earth
and think about missing it
wondering if the tether will break
or snap us back from this place

But for now we stay

transfixed by the moment
taking it in
enjoying this feast
and respite on our journey

by Catherine Franklin, May 2006

Happy Mother's Day (especially to MaMa, Elizzy & Grams)! Here's a Little Poem.

I didn’t know her then,
but her gaze still held
that familiar smile
and sweet affection
I’ve come to know

She holds my sister, on a beach
cheek to cheek
in soft sunlight
What a pair they were,
mutual admiration and warm connection

I’d like to have known her then,
to hear her voice and love her style
It’s sweet to discover her in that time,
younger than I am now
with a different point of view

But in this moment we seem to meet
It makes me smile just to know
that she will love me too,
that I will join their club
and forever belong


--Catherine Nalls Franklin--