Nightdove

Under the bridge outside Mermaid,
In the dark of its concrete mouth,
Cars pass just over me.

I wonder who I am sometimes,
On many sleepless nights,
On the Skytrain in Vancouver,
On days worn by fluorescent lights.

Every time I cut a strawberry I think of Aunt Karen.
I think of her Christmas cards
And the months Dad was in Afghanistan,
Those neighbourhood bus stop mornings
And the snow like diamonds refracting.

I made my mother cry tonight;
She was proud of music I wrote.
My grandmother played viola,
Sang in churches from state to state,
But died so young.

When my mother looks at me,
Does she see her mom?

It got cold under the bridge.
As I walked to my car,
The stars stopped me in the street —
I was looking for something
That was already there.