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Mom's Rose

She bloomed earlier than some,
But she was still full flower
When others were still testing the sunlight.
Her outside petals wilted suddenly,
Alarmingly,
And it was harder to look past them
And concentrate on the more closely-knit,
More fragrant,
And far more beautiful inner strength.
But even those who never saw
The most central circle of loveliness
Remarked on the unusual hue,
The aromatic smile,
The playful wind dance.
Spring is a fragile balance,
And fragile roses touch us briefly,
And unless we photograph them
Into our hearts,
Our loves,
Our souls,
We'll only see wilted petals
And miss the greatest sight–
The layers and layers
Of unique color within.

--Memorial Day, 1997
Enough!

The wind screams like a soul who is damned,
And the cold stings like grief.
Rain sobs in vain through panicked fields
As clouds swirl in brooding confusion.
Impossibly tranquil,
A rose-colored butterfly
Clings tenuously to a leaf,
Cruelly buffeted,
The elements threatening
To rip the very beauty from its wings.
Its yellow flutter tiny against thunder-quakes,
It latches on,
Acknowledging the fleeing jackrabbit,
But not joining it.
For it knows
A more challenging journey is ahead
Requiring its subtle strength.
When nature's tantrum
Dissolves to a child-like giggle,
The sunshine-toned angel takes flight,
A delicate reminder
That when we view the world
Through butterfly-colored glasses,
Even a tiny leaf is enough
To secure us in storms of life.

--6/28/1997
Transformation

They defy mortal explanation,
These startling flights of beauty.
Borne of pain and isolation,
They soar,
And deservedly so.
Un-looked-for but most opportune,
They exceed our dreams
And temper our tears with delight.
It takes courage
To look beyond our small cocoon of comfort,
To risk a metamorphasis
Unknowing of its final form.
Our sadness will shape us,
Prepare us,
Embolden us
For the time the cocoon is ripped,
Often before we think we are ready.
The life cycle has a symmetry
Reflected in many hues,
And sometimes one color may briefly
Shine brighter than the others,
A mystical flower that can fly.
Some of us
Are indeed butterflies waiting to happen,
And when the time comes,
Guided by the music of laughter and love,
We must trust our wise flight instructor.
May we be so lucky
As to reflect our brilliance
To those who will miss us so
Like the one whom I miss
Has reflected so beautifully to me.

--7/23/97
Healing Our Hearts

We were tossed
Like paper dolls in a violent sea,
Tiny in size,
But massive in agony;
Rent,
Our colors streaming into the churning water;
Helpless in our anger,
Hopeless in our aloneness.
We were weary of those
Who stood intact on the shore,
Who wondered why
We didn't just buck up and swim for it.
Tentatively,
We looked to the ones
Who had fallen in with us,
Afraid to impart our burdens to them,
Thinking they'd surely sink
Under the tragic weight.
But the more we floundered,
The more it became clear
That the shorebound would not reel us in,
And that our threads were too thin
To challenge the waves alone.
So we reached to our neighbors by circumstance
And found them reaching for us.
We shared the stories
Of those who had journeyed ahead of us,
Of their pain,
Their triumphs,
The legacies they'd given us.
To our amazement,
Nobody sank–
Our smiles and laughter buoyed us in our tears,
Some of our anger
Was sent to smash satisfactorily to pieces
Against heavy emotional chains,
And our lonliness was softened
By the beauty of the signs given us.
Even the stormy wind relented in part.
Now we know,
Though we are still far from shore,
We are no longer dog-paddling in circles;
And while rain-laden clouds
Still churn above us,
There is now space between them
For the gentle warmth of happiness
To occasionally shine through
And evaporate some of the previous deluge.
We can be the paraffin
To keep each other afloat
While our hearts heal.

--10/13/97
Sixth Month Storm

The snow was forbiddingly deep
And shockingly out of season.
Sturdy trees struggled mightily
To regain their former shape,
And their shriveled leaves
Debated whether to fall away.
Now, the sun provides gentle heat through wispy clouds,
And vibrant grass pushes away the white.
But, though there is beauty
In the storm and its aftermath,
It's still damned cold in the shade.
The shade will never thaw.

--10/28/97
Veteran's Day

Delicate, intricate snowflakes
Fall upon delicate, intricate feathers;
Both float in beauty,
Both part of an elaborate plan.
I march solemnly through white drifts
To black stone where your name is engraved–
Cold stone,
Cold snow,
Cold shade,
But none so icy as the depths of my sorrow.
You are still in the service,
But the quality and tone have changed.
Once you had a fitted uniform
Accented with shiny metal;
Now you're in flowing garb
Accented with snowy feathers.
Once your discipline
Consisted of regiments, order
And strict laws of defense;
Now you're a disciple
Celebrating beauty of individuality,
Truth of the heart,
And gentle love which reigns supreme.
Once you served your flag,
Your president,
Your nation;
Now you are devoted
To a universal father and family.
Whenever I sojourn
Through desolate white storms,
I must remind myself to pause
And think of the beauty
Of the time you became feather light.

--11/11/97
Brief Candle

Time has fallen,
And it can't get up.
A melancholy but beautiful season,
It was abruptly snowed under
Before summer had a chance to turn round.
The leaves were still suspended,
Their colors more a hint than a display.
Indifferent ice sealed the sunburnt land–
No gentle caress to say, "You'll be missed,"
No softening breeze
To gradually dim the blaze to a glow,
No healing tears through which the eyes sparkle.
A shocking blizzard of greed
Roared by undeterred,
Without so much as a "thank you."
How rude.

--9/14/98
Plastic bottles stood in disarray,
A field of soldiers after battle.
Some had lost their child-proof helmets,
Their bodies overturned and empty;
Others were simply abandoned
For those with more potent content.
None alone could deter the enemy,
And, in time,
The whole squadron had limited value.
Chemical warfare was considered,
Then discarded–
The fumes were too noxious
To avoid poisoning the very landscape
It was designed to save.
In the end,
We had to pretend to avert our eyes
As the enemy tanks
Rolled brazenly to the town square,
And the drum ceased its feeble beating,
And the fife was silent.

--10/12/98
Overwhelmed

Silken scarlet flowers
Adorn the vase near the etched date: 1997.
Sweet but mournful snow
Powders the crimson holiday petals–
Reassuring,
But full of tears–
The snow,
Of similar color as the bread I eat–
The flowers,
The wine which burns and redeems.
Why do I grieve so?
Perhaps it is fear that the snow will melt
Or that it won't.

--12/6/98
Graceful Eve

The snow today is a blanket of peace.
It pristinely preserves the traditions
Of sacred birth and death alike.
It quietly covers
The chaos of cash and corruption
With forgiveness and reflection.
Today, there is no wind to disturb this gentle quilt,
Only shy hoof and foot prints
Leading to the sites
Of the tributes to snow angels
Who sing far away of beginnings
And joy that eclipses pain.

--12/24/98
January

My soul is askew–
Something unforeseen,
Unplanned–
Yet my mother would say
There are no accidents.
But how do I reach her?
I guess I'm forgiven–
These things are as regular as breathing.
But can I stand the heaviness,
The distance,
The depth of the truth?
Just when I think dreams are mine to control,
They slip sideways and leave me
With that damned annoying psychic dial tone.
Even knowing her new area code
Won't help me make the connection.
Would her pride be sufficient,
Her commisseration a comfort?
I've done the required exercises,
Yet I still stumble with the extra weight–
As if that will fill the hollow places,
Her silence,
My crooked gait.
How can she be more gone than she is?
My senses are swathed in black
Long past the season of mourning.
Silken cords bind and muffle me
So that each call reaches not much past myself.
Does she recognize my feeble attempts?
Do I recognize them myself?

--1/8/99
Heavy

It's only been twenty-one months
Since your soul's rebirth date,
Yet my heart has aged a lifetime.
Oh, my demeanor
Would still get me carded
In any crowded tavern,
But my interior spirit
Feels as bowed as Atlas.
How my shoulders ache!

--1/24/99
Columbines

Some have called it a Gothic horror story
But the violence was far blacker
Than any trendy outfit.
The two horses and their riders
Were far more pale and chilling
Than any pancake makeup.
Like our dreams,
Films mirror our fantasy,
Yet the only triggers they pull are emotional.
The words of a song
Can only contain the shades of feeling
And cannot take the physical form
Of the shrapnel which shredded our world.
Those who doomed themselves
Could only compute their isolation,
And, in their illness,
Their tunnel vision toward life
Led to their narrowed vision in the sight of a gun
And to their need
To transform their individual mental pain
Into a chasm of anguish for us all.
Their inner hate exploded
Like the blood they splattered
So carefully, yet carelessly.
And though all the king's horses
And all the king's men were summoned,
It was too late to diffuse
The devices of disgruntled childhood.
Our hearts will be forever stained by the starkness
Of 37 red columbines in the snow–
Fragile, fragile flowers.
When we see them,
We all bleed.
No mere nightmare of mine
Could eclipse this terror,
And no wisdom of my age
Could possibly console.
But I love you all,
My young brothers and sisters,
My fragile flowers.
We are a delicate variety,
But, while the snow may be forbiddingly deep,
We will find a way
To somehow,
Tentatively,
Grow.

---4/99
Wavering

My life was once a balance beam;
Now it's a high, thin wire,
And I've got a cold.
Even when I'm fairly sure
There's a net below,
I'm usually afraid
To take a peek.
I do not face certain disaster,
But it IS windy.
On one side of the chasm
Is a compulsive generosity,
An urgent need
To save the entire planet
And offend no one
At the risk of submerging my soul,
And the companionship of guilt
That results when I don't.
On the other side of the wire,
The depths of depression yawn before me
And the aching vastness,
Yet security,
Of self-imposed isolation.
But for all the safety
Of my selfishness,
As on the other side,
Guilt will happily accompany me.
Now, no need to wonder
How much longer I'll wobble–
I feel a sneeze coming on.

--12/24/99
Christmas Eve, 1999

The peaceful warmth
And gentle breeze
Cushion the fact
That the shadows are still longer than I'd like.
My appreciative smile
Is tinged with self-pity,
And the crimson floral tide
Both comforts and saddens.
The joy of new birth
Helps reconcile the death of an era,
But cannot fully replace it.
The beauty of youth,
Greenery and growth
Still touches me too deeply
Even as I reflect the quiet.
I hope to soon evolve
Toward a higher love,
But for now,
I must still admit
To the self-absorption
Of those tired shadows.
How appropriate, then,
That the rose I bring you today
Is fire and ice.

--12/24/99
At the End of an Age

The wind brings Arctic memories
But also carries them away.
I acknowledge the blast
And feel the bite
But am not frozen motionless,
Not anymore.
The toe-wiggling of hope
Inspires plans of change
And possibly real steps forward.
Perhaps, starting soon,
The wind will become my guide
Instead of my oppressor.

--12/31/99
Funeral on My Mom's Birthday

Cold, hard, dry earth
Is scratched, gashed deep
By prying, bulldozing fingers
To make a bitter pit
For one whose body now cares not.
Dust to dust
Whips about in a wicked wind
As if refusing to rest and settle
Upon the body who now cares not.
Scorched and brittle grass,
Also disturbed, takes flight
And seeks the dust as if to say,
"Don't leave me here
With the one who now cares not."
The casket has been lowered.
Upon such an angry day,
The earth could not escape
That is now returned so heavily–
The thud is full of meaning.
I wish I could say I care not.

--1/24/2000
With Apologies to Emily Dickinson

A rocket with furry feet–
Curious–and fleet–
An empath of modest sweet.

Inspects–inhales with spotted nose–
Entreats–wants two of those–
Enjoys by mouthfuls springtime snows–
Infinite enrichment where he goes.

--3/26/2000
Third Year Realizations

Roses indicate my pain–
Full, red and deep.
Lilacs point to my fear–
Pale, and almost secretly blossoming.
I've been lulled by the sweetness of their scent.
The carved stone is my selfishness–
Black, and hiding a giving soul.
I need to take my anger,
Reduce it to ashes,
And release it to the wind.
As for what I must keep,
I owe it to you
To give a proper interment.
Only then will I be able
To dance to your music.

--4/28/2000
The Last Combo Meal

Take this burger–
That is my plump and cholesterol-laden body.
Drink this cola–
It is my caffeinated excess.
Consume these fries,
And consume my compulsive anger.
One last time
To acknowledge childish fear and indulgence
Before striving for a higher purpose.
On this day,
In the presence of the departed,
The devoted and the holy,
I promise
To attempt to emulate them
In their lovingkindness.
While still bound by my humanity,
It is time to look
To spiritual fruit for nourishment–
It has a slimming effect on selfishness
And fewer emotional calories
Than temptation.
May I soon learn to be
Satiated in this way.

---4/28/2000
November Observation

She lumbered out of the car
In her long coat and winter boots
And waded through the white
To the approximate spot.
She began to sweep away the snow
With her gloved hands,
A little like an umpire at home plate,
But the diamonds this time
Were glints of brilliance in sunlight.
At last the stone was revealed
With its engraved name and dates,
And, satisfied,
She lay the red roses upon it.
She leaned close for a moment
And said to the stone:
"Happy Veteran's Day, darling,"
And turned away quickly and left.

--11/11/2000
Black Clouds in a Sunny Sky

We think we know,
And we try to prepare–
We back up our files,
Put on a jacket,
Stock up the cellar.
The meteorologists,
The preachers,
The teachers,
They try to warn us–
And we nod,
Half-listening,
Caught up in the calmness,
The safeness,
The sleepiness of the now.
Then, when the now suddenly isn't so sedate,
We're slapped hard with the why–
"But she was doing so well!"
"But I didn't expect THIS!"
"But it's unfair!"
When faced with rain in December,
Death around Christmas,
Birds motionless against the wind–
The best that you can do
Is zip up your jacket,
Pray for understanding,
And hold onto your roses
The best you can.

--12/17/2000
Progression

It's always cooler than I think,
And I blink
In the brightness of the sun,
Wondering why it still leaves me so cold.
But as I ruminate about what's fair,
High in the air,
An eagle soars seamlessly by
With a perception I've yet to attain.
So why not let the wind become my friend?
In the end,
I'll soar closer to the sun,
And the snow won't freeze my feet.

--1/24/2001
Easter

No need to dress up
Or worry about being seen
Or whether your home
Has the lastest furnishings;
What's important
Is that you have those long talks,
As long as they take,
And that you check your house for flaws,
And, finding them,
Learn from them before you hang.
When you dream,
Listen to the message,
For it comes from one who passed before you.
Perhaps it will inspire change,
Change you could never imagine
On your own.
Perhaps you'll be able
To leave your own drugged state
And help your own brothers and sisters
And escape the confines of your soul.

--4/15/2001
Cross Your Heart
Remember the ads about full-figured gals?
Well, I'm only half-figured.
I've learned to survive
Without daily combo meals,
But I've yet to acquire the strength
To renounce their contents for good.
I've provided assistance when asked,
But I'm still afraid
To help those who are silent.
I've learned to live without you,
But damned if I can figure out what it means.

--4/28/2001
Dichotomy

Pink and white,
Clover and roses.
Sun and rain,
Wind and calm.
Beauty and destruction,
Flags and poems that don't rhyme.
Names and dates,
Pride and pain.
Why didn't I
So desperately want to hug you
When you were here?

--4/28/2001
Mother's Day

I thought I saw your smile
In a crowded casino today,
Your eyes in a happy child
Gathering dandelions
As if they were prize roses,
Your dance
In a thousand tiny butterflies
Hovering in a lilac-scented breeze,
And your elegant hands
At the ends of my own wrists.
Why is it, then,
When I close my eyes,
I can't see all of you at once?
Perhaps you've been scattered
By the wind of my own mind.
At least you're all in one place
In my heart.

--5/13/2001
Tribute

Adrift in an ocean of fragrant color
Punctuated by waves of glory,
My lifeboat is a small granite slab,
A tiny tribute to a vast soul
Whose reach spanned continents.
She would not want me to float
Utterly without direction
When I can clearly see the others,
Not nearly so buoyant,
For whom one more rose means suffocation.
My raft may be small,
But if I can fit,
So can they.

--5/28/2001
The Gamble

A few crumpled dollars
Are all I can spare today–
I offer them,
Somewhat nervously,
Trying not to wrinkle my nose
When I catch a whiff
Of his long unwashed state.
But the moment of uncertainty
Is soon eclipsed
By the enormity of his toothy grin
And a tearful look in his eye,
And we both sigh with relief.

--2001
The Syndrome

Pain is a ragged exclamation point
Tearing at exhausted muscles
With a thinly veiled anger
That colors every particle of my being.
Surprising waves of sadness
Suddenly crash over me,
Causing me to lose my footing
And float helplessly along.
Spasms clench me in a grip
Tighter than any vise,
Daring me to summon the iron will
Neede to dislodge them.
And elusive sleep
Taunts me like a haughty child,
Laughing over her shoulder
As I stumble in the chase.
So what to do?
I'm hard at work
Writing a new sentence,
Trying out water wings,
Learning how to bite back
And run faster.
Pray for me.

--8/25/2001
Storm

Bolts like beautiful anger hem me in,
Firing at random,
Dazzling my eyes.
The rain at first seems half-hearted
With a timid drop
Now on my forehead,
Then on my shoe.
The thunder, however,
Has a forceful tone,
Gives an ominous warning,
Startling me from my reverie.
The rain builds some confidence,
But the reminder to find shelter
Is still a gentle one.
The clouds progress
From wispy white
To moody grey
To threatening charcoal.
The wind evolves too,
From a subtle sway
To an earnest suggestion
To a vindictive shove.
And so the rain,
Now sufficiently fueled
By the bad influence of its friends,
Hurls its now massive torrent on me
As if to say, "I told you so!"
And at last forces me to flee.

--8/25/2001
Cabin Fever

The chipmunks and squirrels
Do their cute but crazy dance,
Now on the rock,
Now on the log,
Now in the tree.
Sometimes they scold me for spying.
High above,
A dark eagle screeches like an old woman,
Telling me to get off her property.
The bluejays laugh at the notion,
Instead wanting to know
What I've brought them to eat.
The hummingbirds are unconcerned,
Too busy flitting about
To get very involved.
Then suddenly,
I come across a view so spectacular
That I totally forget
What they had to say.
The fever is broken.

--8/25/2001
The aspens shimmer,
And the creek tickles my ear.
On a mossy rock,
A small butterfly suns itself,
And I'm in heaven.

--8/25/2001
Questions for Mom

The squirrels are playing chase,
And I find it hilarious.
I need the distraction.
I've been knocked to my butt
So many times lately
That I've worn out the seat of my pants,
And I'm a little bit hesitant
About getting back up.
Would you be as confused as I am?
Would your pain
Be wrapped in red, white and blue?
Would you know what to pray for?
At least I know one thing–
The squirrels would make you laugh too.

--11/11/2001
Relapse

They circle me like so many sharks,
Excited because they've drawn blood.
I thought we'd evolved past the point
Of thinning out the weak from the herd.
My pathetic self-indulgence
Did not strengthen me for this onslaught.

--2001
Five Christmas Eves without you,
And I have no more answers
Than if it were yesterday.
No pattern,
No permanent change for the better,
Or, for that matter, worse.
Instead, it's more like:
Laughing through the tears,
Hating a beautiful woman for her beauty,
Wistful nostalgia in a new millennium,
A $200 ornament on a $50 tree,
Murder in the name of what is holy.
Or, in the midst of terror,
An American flag.
It seems that what time doesn't heal,
It wounds.
How else could I explain
My exhausted determination,
My foggy brilliance,
My happy grief?
While I read Christmas poems
To your ashes,
I pray that Jesus will forgive
My reluctant disquiet
In this season of peace.

--12/24/2001
Holiday Goose

The honking
Is at once ridiculous and amusing,
And the long lines make you wonder
If they couldn't have found
Somewhere else to go.
Then, once you've decided
To blast through the crowd
Out of sheer aggravation,
One makes eye contact,
And in spite of yourself,
You smile and wave
And resolve to wait more patiently.

--12/24/2001
Long-Awaited Treatment

Such a warm future,
But still . . . .
This new heat is thrilling,
But why is it also intimidating?
Would another five years have paved your way
To a true mortal shalom,
Or was the only path an immortal one?
Are you paving the way for me?
If so,
Then I'd better quit taking baby steps.
I'm pleased at this revived urge
To do the snow angel dance,
But, as always, my old misery,
Which has become so comfortable,
Reminds me how much safer it is
To stay high and dry.
At times,
It is just too sobering to realize
How much closer I am to you
In your present state,
And yet . . . .
How you would have laughed and applauded
An impromptu snow sculpture!
Why isn't my present good fortune
Enough to make me complete?
I suspect it would have made
A huge difference in your life.
Something in my pain holds me back.
I've come to expect
Bodily self-punishment
Whenever I become joyous.
Perhaps you would have told me
What a self-limiting lifestyle I'm leading,
But would I have listened?
I'm listening now,
But only because of my forced emotional depth.
Your soaring bird,
Impossibly white against the infinite blue of my future,
Illustrates to me the thrill of flying,
Even when the wind is cold.
And your silly squirrel,
With his semi-secret giggle,
Informs me that if I have to look
Before every single nervous leap,
Before long,
I'll be up a tree without a paddle!
I owe it to you
To treat myself to my excitement
So, perhaps, along the way,
I can plant the seeds of contagion,
And your brilliance will not have been wasted.

--1/24/2002
Beloved

You don't have to wait
For the night-time clouds to dissipate
To know that the stars
Have not divorced the sky,
Nor formed a new constellation,
Nor lost any brilliance,
Nor ceased their twinkling good humor.
That's the power of the ideal marriage.

--1/24/2002
Blown Away

I thought for certain
That when I released my pain
To that 70mph wind,
It could not return.
I was wrong.
It wasn't even subtle,
Like a cat burglar peering in a window.
It had the audacity to materialize
Toe to toe with me
And punch me in the forehead
With its ungloved hand.
And then it laughed.
How rude.

--2/9/2002
AWOL
Like the crescendo of a hideous, out-of-tune orchestra,
The pain swells . . . and swells . . . .
And gains a surreal, shiny, metallic edge,
As if one had bitten into aluminum foil.
Relief is incomprehensible,
Belonging to another age,
A long-lost innocence.
Oh, where is that longed-for army
Who claimed they could slay the beast
With a few pills, a few workouts, a few attitude adjustments?
Can they not show me
Where wolves have ripped out their muscles,
Where bits of broken glass
Are still lodged?
Did the cacophony drown them out,
Or did they merely become silent
When they saw my gaping flesh?
This discord's fevered pitch
Has me reeling and stumbling and clawing in desperation.
I hear and feel massive footsteps behind me,
Dwarfing me, enveloping me.
I'd scream . . . . .
But I have no voice.

--3/28/2002
Agony sings through my body
Like an electric current,
A high-frequency buzzing
Of my very consciousness.
I exist only by rote.
My tinnitus is the soundtrack.
Just when I cannot conceive of amplification
Without causing something to burst,
The thunderstorm begins,
First striking the heel,
Then the rib,
Next the knee,
Now the hip.
I cannot discern
Which is the greater evil–
The randomness,
Or the intensity.
In either case,
I can no longer find shelter
Or even a volume control.

--4/27/2002
I held up a black light to my heart
And could only faintly make out a feeble lavender glow.
By now, I would have expected it to be
As broad as a highway billboard,
Or at least as bright a light as a Broadway sign.
So, I go my slow and painful way,
Slouching ever toward a standstill,
My confidence a discarded rag,
An egotistical echoing of the same tired tune.
Amazing how few see that the smile is staged.
For all the intentions of generous acts,
In order to garner true respect,
One must commit to a strong and beauteous violet future
Of an intensity to eclipse the wasted years.

--5/27/2002
The sun still insists in shimmering through the trees,
The night sky insists on its blackness,
And my body insists on flinching
At the sound of a popped balloon.
These are the rules.
Regardless of my approval,
I must smile pretty and wave to them.
It has nothing to do with being brave.
Were I to stand on my head,
My perspective would be flipped,
Not the world.
I just hope I can say I left it better than I found it.
Those who have seen much more than I,
They're the ones who should drive the bus,
And I should write about them more admirably,
For they followed the rules yet knew when to say no.

--5/27/2002
The End of Waiting

The brightness of hope
And crimson promise
Punctuate the bleakness
And prepare us for the momentous
And love beyond all expectation.
Perhaps it is finally time
To embrace without fear
And extend that shy hand
To those who are still reticent.
The chill will not be noticed
If we shelter each other
And allow our sadness to bolster us
And become part of the fabric of our wisdom.
Let us celebrate the spectrum
And continue to step bravely forward
And bring forth tidings of great joy.

--12/24/2002
Crushed

What a world of difference
Between the merely spiritually sleepy
And the profoundness
Of chronic exhaustion of the soul.
The day to day trials of the unaware
Are like the yammering of so many magpies–
Annoying, thin, and nearly insignificant.
But add one more component
To the cares of the perpetually downtrodden,
And it becomes nearly insurmountable.
The chill passes through the bone to the marrow,
And the weight magnifies
Until the heart is so heavy
One cannot get out from under
Or heft this burden to give it to God.
When it seems every concern
Is clamoring to be heard,
Even the voice of reason can be eclipsed
By chemical surges of sadness.
It is then that we must
Let the bliss of the ignorant fall away
(at least for a time)
If we are to hear our own voices,
Thin and quivering,
And whispering to the Almighty
That, though we have fallen,
We'd like to get up.

--1/26/2003
Tiptoeing Up to the Dance Floor

Imagine my amazement when,
At the flick of a switch,
I got not the glimmer of a small candle,
But the blaze of a spotlight.
My heart nearly weightless,
I inched forward,
Even though I longed to leap.
I'd followed these flashes of light before,
Only to find
The floor packed with gyrating bodies,
And no room for me.
So I cautiously checked for clues
As to what I might find this time.
The sting in my eyes from smoke
Was curiously absent,
As was the foul stench of despair.
The tune playing,
Though still faint,
Was familiar–
I once knew the steps by heart.
My approach became steadier,
And I looked for a friendly face,
And a smile of encouragement.
Then, suddenly, I was aware
That my shoes were outdated
And that I didn't have a partner,
So I paused at the edge,
Ready to accept only when asked.
Now, I lean slightly against the railing,
My toe tapping in time,
Hoping that soon
I will dance all night.

--1/26/2003
The Dinner Bell
Tantalizing morsels
Of relief and encouragement
Dangle before me
Like so many glittering jewels.
Do I reach for the one
That sparkles the brightest,
Or simply make a desperate grab
For whatever is nearest?
Hunger clouds my discernment.
Common sense tells me
That the best solution
Is of medium wait and intensity,
But fear and disbelief
Motivate me to snack greedily
On empty emotion and quick fixes
That leave me weak
And only temporarily satiated.
When will I develop the patience
To savor each bite
When the most nutritious portion
Finally arrives at my table?
I'm sorry–
I was talking with my mouth full again.

--3/12/2003
Out of My Reach

The edges of time
Are beginning to blur,
Frayed by strands of pain.
The corridor stretches before me,
Unbending of my tears.
Chaos has made my destination unclear,
And agony forces me to ponder
Whether my direction is even useful.
Has the corridor become circular,
Or have I?
Another hour slips through my stiff fingers,
And I leave it on the ground where it falls
Because I realize to my dismay
That if I reach to retrieve it,
It dissolves,
And my shuffle
Seems that much closer to endless.

--4/17/2003
Newsflash

It should be
As obvious as neon at night,
But I must have had my eyes half closed
To shield from the glare.
That's the only explanation I have.
Instead,
It finally emerges as a 2am realization,
Simultaneously as profound as an ocean,
Yet blunt as a sledgehammer.
So now,
What do I do with the knowledge
That from this moment
And for the rest of my life,
I will never once exist in complete comfort?
Even the pondering of this is painful.
I can't Scarlett O'Hara this away.
Rhett will never return.
Tears seem a waste,
Yet the years of ignoring equally futile.
I can't sit on the floor forever
Pretending it wasn't agony to get there.
Eventually,
Someone will ask what I'm doing there,
And I'll have to tell them I don't know.
I guess that's where it starts.
Someone please speak up.

--4/24/2003
Drought

In the midst of Mother Nature's deluge,
It would seem I am evaporating,
My soul coming to resemble
A vast Sahara in the snow.
My reservoir of confidence
Shrinks steadily from its shores,
And my thirst for answers
Finds only an empty cup to quench it.
I cannot even cry.
Only the memory of your smile
And your laughter in the face of fear
Lead me away from the pull of the mirage
And back on my long journey
Bolstered by droplets of hope.

--5/11/2003
My humor,
The sense of myself,
Has been swiped from me
By a nameless thief
Whom no one can stop.
He distracted me
With gossamer dreams of comfort
And promises of achievement,
Then left me gasping for breath in the night
With a gaping hole in my soul
Where a hearty laugh should be.
I'm being asked
If I didn't just misplace it,
If it isn't buried under a misdiagnosis somewhere.
No, I know it was stolen
Because the thief used it to mock me,
Taunting me just out of my reach
Until I tired of pursuit.
Now when I look in the mirror,
The reflection is blank.
I stare and stare,
But see nothing.

--5/26/2003
Mountain Rain

I begin the day as barbed wire,
Rusted, cold, jagged,
A barrier to divinity.
Stretched to rigidity,
Nearly immobile,
I can barely discern
Where pain ends and I begin.
But just before I snap,
I heed the call of a nearly forgotten
(Yet strikingly beautiful)
Lone flute in a lilting breeze,
And it leads me to the place
Of my father's fathers.
And though a hard rain falls,
My rust melts away,
And I welcome the downpour
And its life-giving dance.
I breathe,
Really breathe,
And let the healing water soothe the barbs
And warm my soul.
Now I can flow,
Feather light,
And free myself to evolve
And paint the sky.

--6/28/2003
Fragile

I am a weak vessel
For aches deeper than an ocean,
Buffeted by a cruel tide.
The sea never sleeps.
Rather, it seethes.
The midnight waters run black
And sting of ice.
Unbidden shards of myself
Become lodged in my throat.
How much longer
Before I collapse upon myself,
Leaving only fragments to drift helplessly,
Further and further away from islands of comfort?
I am already awash in grief.
I groan beneath the weight of the waves
While others debate the origin of the storm.
The end result is the same:
I crumble,
And wash away.

--7/23/2003
Invisible Healing

I float on a raindrop
Scented with pine and spruce,
And Indian paintbrush tints my cheeks.
Obtrusive thoughts
Scamper from me quicker than a chipmunk,
And smiling peace replaces them.
My spirit soars
As a hawk before snow-tipped peaks,
High above the gently rippling water.
I touch eternity
Before coming to rest
Upon a purple-pillowed cloud,
And although I know this dream is brief,
I bless the grace that sent me
And know my silent words will linger
And ripple thousand-fold.

--7/26/2003
Almost

My lonely room is bleak and pale
And smells of stagnation.
I haven't the energy
To even peer out the window.
The ache is so thorough
It actually seems to outweigh me.
I feel chained to my fate,
Too heavy to even breathe.
I am awakened by a child's giggle.
In spite of my pain,
I leap to the window,
But see nothing but empty sky.
Disappointed,
I decide it was the wind
And turn away.

--9/2003
Good Morning?

The alarm yanks me from my paper-thin doze;
The noise echoes
In the recesses of my cobwebbed brain.
I cannot curse it aloud
Because my tongue is a thirsty sponge
Stuck to the roof of my mouth.
My joints have turned to rust
With limbs as thick as concrete;
I must unfold myself from my bed
One creak at a time.
The sandman has welded my eyes shut again
So that I may not judge myself in the mirror.
My breath now has a death rattle.
Even my heart is a ghost town.
I feel soulless at this hour.
I exhale from beyond the grave
And unfurl myself into the shower stall.
The change begins
As warm water courses over me and through me.
I somehow sputter back to life
Like an ancient jalopy
Intent on one last road race through the dust.
My morning ritual is complete.

--10/5/2003
A Break in the Clouds

The lightning bolts through the clouds
And is confused when it reaches the breach.
It rumbles to itself for awhile.
The clouds brood over why they can't bridge the gap.
They mourn the loss of consistency,
But can suspend their disbelief.
The trees reach ever hopeward,
Their thin fingers half leafless,
Their prayers almost sensual.
The sun slips into its glowing velvet robe,
Shakes off the haze,
And beams.
The window of prophecy is fulfilled,
And another riddle is solved.
The moon hides, ashamed.

--10/12/2003
Sunday Night

The city smiles
And spreads out its blanket of twinkling lights
As my car devours the thin black ribbon,
White dashes and yellow pinstripes winding behind me.
The moon looks like a Hollywood movie
With its thin gauze of clouds
Diffusing its toothsome glow.
I can almost hear a howl.
Streetlights peer critically upon me,
And some shut their eyes in disapproval.
Other vehicles hurtle closer to their welcome mats,
Their occupants propelled
Toward blankets of woven fabric
Or the moon-like glow of electronic screens.
The city sighs
As I head home.

--10/12/2003
Sabbath

Warmth flows through my bones,
Through windows, through walls
In these hallowed halls
Where I show my small hands.
My fingers are curled unnecessarily.
Why can't I be completely silent?
I have muddied your gift,
But I welcome the meeting
And the soul-warming
Through windows, through walls.

--11/9/2003
Hemorrhage

Incoherence
In the form of unfiltered emotion
Flows helplessly from me
As though from a gaping wound.
I bleed pain and despair.
Fatigue leaks from every pore
As I try to stem the tide
With awkward bandages
Of varying medicinal value.
Somehow,
My lover absorbs it all like a sponge.
Just when I think he could hold no more,
He holds me again.

--2003
Bluster

I am paper against a gale,
Tumbling end over end,
Hoping for some fixed object
Against which I might rest,
If only briefly.
Is youth an advantage?
It does give me time
To see which way the grass ripples
Before I am ripped from my refuge
And set in motion again.
But you were blasted with a tidal wave,
Dashed to pieces against the rocks
Almost before you knew you were hit,
Made to react rather than act,
Made to dissolve rather than solve.
You had no intention of resting so soon,
But at least you are no longer bound by the wind.
Enjoy the calm.

--11/11/2003
Changing Our Tune

The road requires much goose-stepping,
Picking a way carefully among the ruins.
The curves ahead bend just out of our sight,
Making our pace mostly guesswork.
Our celebrations must evolve with us
And cannot always be in person.
But still,
The beat can entice us
To dance until dawn,
Even from the seclusion of the ruins.
Somewhere,
The bass is booming,
And good wishes abound.

-1/24/2004
Of Earth and Sky

I labor mightily under heavy burdens,
And I need rest.
I wish to become colorful and helium-light
And drift toward the guidance of those
Whose burdens in life were even heavier.
Their wisdom is engraved upon my heart,
If only I would take the time to read it.
I stretch to look past my shuttered windows
And find the gentle warmth and subtle stirrings
That persist beyond pain.
I strain to hear the song of my soul.
The soul makes beautiful music,
Even when it is off-key.
There are times I must consent
To being carried in the arms of love
And being rocked to sleep
By ancient melody and spirit breeze
And letting your wisdom
Cascade upon me in restorative dreams.

--5/9/2004


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