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Christine Salkin Davis (Focail do a Chara)

"Focail do a chara" is Gaelic for "Words for a Friend." I hope you find my poems meaningful, or insightful, or beautiful, or perhaps disturbing. I write about my experiences -- in my study of death and dying, children's health, and mental health; in my teaching; in my spiritual seeking; in my call for social justice and compassionate living. I hope these words find you, friend, and bless you. Please click the "Subscribe" button below to receive a daily email of poetry.

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July 07, 2018

Walk the path you are
on. The future will unfold
most gloriously.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

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Anniversary Memories

October 12, 2018

(upon the anniversary of my dad's death)

Afternoon shadows deepen
and anniversary memories trigger the saddest day of my life.
Twenty-seven years of loss feels like yesterday
and I struggle to remember
your voice,
your smile,
your laughing eyes,
dry sense of humor inherited.

I learned,
but under-appreciated
your stoic sense of responsibility and self-control, commitment, and incapsulated joy,
respect,
and I just want you to know,
I appreciate you
now.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Tropical Depression

September 22, 2018

Carrying coffee around like a baby's
bottle, appreciating the electric grid
and praying it holds, still
safe and dry, some aren't,
pelting rain sounding like ping
pong balls dropping against the back
drop of howling wind, flood
warnings widespread, refuged by
brick, buried cables, some aren't,
trees taking the brunt, waving
limbs, so far so good,
some aren't so fortunate. Bird
singing in the storm, dog
at my feet, sheltered, protected,
some aren't.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The Beginning of the Alps

October 06, 2018

We ride by Alpine aspen trees and listen to the hum of the bus;
a back beat to the tour guide’s Spanish, English, German, spiel.

Napoleon’s defeat,
Ilba—18-year old daughter of the Austrian Emperor had a forced marriage to Napoleon. History lesson:
peace treaty,
return home.
cuatro años.

Today,
highway and roadside industry, farmland,
concrete and asphalt and corns and grasses,
clear sky.

Cold skin against unfamiliar air conditioning,
benedictine monastery.

Vamos.

Romantic valley of the Wachauw:
apricot trees and vineyards,
sound of horse hooves on cobblestone streets, kayakers and motorboats pass our tourist barge and
across the aisle, the George Clooney lookalike — if George Clooney had been an accountant instead of an actor — smiles at a woman in the next seat.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

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