YES MOTHER I WILL BE BACK

My mother is old and ill.
Each breath a chore
of undefined origin.

She doesn't look like my mother;
and I know that the shell is weak.
As she begins to fail again I fear the
darkness of a world without her.

I understand, accept and appreciate that
the circle must be completed.
Yet the sound of her voice is comfort.

I hate that she is resigned to an institution where
strangers on eight hour tours of duty- "care" for her.
I hate that this place so sickens me that I run from her
in this time with that as the excuse.

My mother is ...
alive for me forever in the manner of my speech and the
tenderness of my heart.

My mother...
stands tall in my memory in all her glorious imperfection.

My mother...
deserved better than me for she has lived courageously in a world
I will never understand.

My mother...
judges me with each unexplained tear as the sadness
that peered out at me from birth, haunts my history and renders me
impotent in the world.

All that I know of her is overshadowed by the mystery.
When I was a boy the story goes...
and now that I am a man
I am
still unsure.

I fight to reconcile the realization of the inevitable.

I long to find solace in the comforting understanding of God's immutable law.
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Grant me this day
that I may hold thy will as comfort
and bravely face a world where her voice is silent.

The man in the mirror


Sometime staring in the mirror I realize that I am in many ways a stranger to myself. I wonder who it is that I resemble most. With whose brown eyes am I staring and what stranger’s broad strong nose is that? Where did I get my straight smooth teeth and sly, charming grin? Is my sense of humor my own or is it another blind inheritance. Standing tall and proud, I speculate that I might have been cloaked in greatness or worn the robes of a wise man. Perhaps the path that led to me was one of magnificent struggle and conquest. Possibly I was a beggar or soldier afraid of killing or being killed. I have always known that struggle was and is a part of my worldview. The part of which I am that keeps me humble and tentative. The chronic psychic turmoil stirs the conflicting elements of my make up and serving to balance one component against the other. Stumbling boldly through the ages and stages of man I find myself redefined and configured. I have come to realize that time and understanding is as fluid and ever changing as the tides of the ocean.
Everyday I am reminded that my story is incomplete for I have many missing pieces. Constantly shifting positions on issues of heritage, lineage and the power and potency of genetics is enough to befuddle the sharpest mind. The painfully slow progress of my own understanding sometime causes me pause. They cannot understand that I am not sure. Not sure that I am good enough. Not sure that I am strong enough. Not sure that I am sharp enough. Not sure that I am worthy. I know in the place where reason dwells that I am capable of brilliance. I have even reveled in it at times. The warmth of clarity sometime shoots through my veins like white blood cells battling the dreary infectious poison of doubt and fear. Still I stand head bowed and unwilling to fall. In the fear of falling I stand trapped in hesitation. This hesitation that has taken decades to form tightening slowly until it chokes me with fear. The world mislabels us as we stumble and dance deftly out of the way of success. Over the years I have begun to see. I work my way out of my fear and offer one writing at a time as proof. I will get better still, more concise as I pluck out the sharp prongs that have so thoroughly embedded themselves around my soul. I am a warrior for love in a battle fought inside. Inside the walls and caverns of my own head. My soul inspires me with the light that will not burn out. I am coming and I am confident.

Walking alone I think of God


Walking alone in my backyard
I am surrounded by the reasons that
I believe in God.

The sound of my children,
the breeze dancing around my face.
The call of a lazy bird and a distant hum of undefined origin.

My life calls to me as I pass the pool and wave at a neighbor
tending to the grill like a true suburban warrior.

I am home.
The place where smiles come easy and the evening gusts are the best.

My years of wonder and envy find me eye to eye with the dreams that I thought were only celluloid illusions created to torture the masses.

Weekends in the country could hold no greater comfort then my lawn chair and garage door opener.

God grant that the course of my journey never take me too far from this vision.

SOMETIME LITTLE BIRDS FALL OUT OF THEIR NESTS

We brought another little bird under our wing
and changed our world again.

As we buried his mother and moved his home we
consider how fortunate we have been.
Some neighbors eye us strangely as we sit among the friends and family
of a woman we hardly knew.

Strangers look upon us with curious eyes and hopeful tears.
A young boy reflects on how plastic his mother’s face seems
stiff and silent; not at all as she was in life.

Honor guard rifles blast as solemn tears leak and stuffy noses blow.
In the cemetery the rolling hills and lush green lawns offer peace to those that can walk it.
A little boy stares in disbelief and stunned, unattached aloneness.

Hugs and back pats seem empty as his mother’s casket sits sealed and solitary.
The boy glances back yet moves swiftly out of the chapel. The cars start and wait respectfully as the mourners pile in.

We drive back to the funeral home pick up our new son and drive strangely out to lunch.
The boy is easy as his regular smile and good-natured charm shine through. Will he suddenly be crushed by the weight of realization? Is his grief so personal that it has no outward expression? We simply do not know. He is a stranger to us; as we must seem strange to him.

The will of God is mighty and when we bow to it we succeed. We buried a young boy’s mother today and he has become our own.

06180301

SITTING IN THE SHADE

Sitting in the shade of a old familiar tree
Breathing the evening air on the hum of a thousand birds
Reclined in the stillness and warmth of a lazy moon

I remember what it is that moves me so
I revel in the picture perfect serenity of a cloistered life
The simple nods and semi-smiles
The gentle civility of recognition
The hope that tomorrow will always be as carefree

I ask that I keep the vision of a life lived in such splendor
For the will of the world would have me forget
Forget the sounds of my children playing
The warming glow of an afternoon sun
and the priceless kiss of love

Tender moments coincide with melodrama
Balanced through the filters of a happy and grateful heart
Share with me the elegance of life’s own joy

The joy that a willing spirit finds in every turn
Your love has merit here
Here where you might be free
Free to love all things
and seeing them as gifts from a merciful God

Share with me that I might have more love
Sitting in the shade of an old familiar tree
I am blessed!

DEPENDING ON DEATH

Death seems
far and near.

Thoughts of death
leave us quaking in
our shoes; heads bowed
eyes squeezed tight.

Please God let it
be the other one;
not my turn yet.

Serving God;
not in paradise,
how about Paramus.

My brother laid
out in his casket,
smiling, yet the body was lifeless.

Everything that we are
is invisible.
Everything that is visible
isn't who we are.

Like going off the high
board; through the air
praying to splash safely into
another world.

I am depending on death
to be all that the mystery
portends.

MOTHER'S LOVE

I can see her downcast face,
eyes swollen with old tears.
It's a tender plump face that my baby girl shares.

Those tears leave me empty;
for I can no longer trust my eyes.
My mother weeps with worry
that my love will vanish;
yet it has no place to go.

She who mothered me
owns my love. She covets
it and is jealous that it has limit.

She dared not tempt me with the
knowledge of another mother as her fear,
the curse grew stronger.

Years came and anguish turned to that dull
constant ache in the pit of my belly.

Fully grown and strong in the world;
my mother's fear traps us both.

Love is truth exposed.
Through it all no love is unconditional.
Better the bitter memory of a truth exposed;
then the constant, everlasting ache of fear.

Just a few words
strung together in
virtually random order.

Sitting alone in the dank,
cold basement air,
loosing another
hour in idle musings.

Blah, Blah, Blah...

DOWN TO THE BONE

Uncovered and naked,
scars of another life
forge bumpy roads
along a tortured soul.

Struggling to see,
the bitter taste of rejection
lingers in your mouth like
remnants of a regurgitated
meal.

I appreciate that
I am not alone;
still there is little comfort
in that truth.

Yes I know,
The fault is not mine;
still I weep.

Prominent tokens,
God the Father’s love
permeates my life;
yet I have empty spaces
in my heart.

My faith is strong;
little else moves me through
this life.

In the glowing reflective eyes
of those I love,
God’s merciful embrace.

04300301

WAR SONGS

Innocent eyes
glare back at me,
In remembrance of what I do.

The answers,
sacred question;
hide our individual truths.

Marching out to greet us,
I look to heed their cries.
Woe is the mercenary soldier
ignoring innocent eyes.

Small heroes,
big deeds,
no greater story to tell.

Little solace in the aftermath;
dispensing flashes of hell.

Innocent eyes glare back at me in the moment when chance I glance.

Bitter surprise
the agony
is we all own a piece of this dance.

FALLING LEAF

Wet, damp, slippery,
heavy ladened mush;
spotted faded browns
and yellow dots.

Akward, playful steps.

Drying in the season’s
sun becoming stiff
and brittle.

Raked and bagged endlessly
as they fall through the trees
and litter our world with charm.

ONLY GOD'S LOVE IS UNCONDITIONAL


When night falls
on the grayness that holds our prison.

Terrible sounds of lost, rejected children
echo through the empty spaces
where hearts should beat.

In the stillness that follows
the eternal light of God's own love
will brighten and vanquish.

No bitter shouts,
no razor tight barbs;
only the glory of the Love of God.

In the end this truth shall make us free.

Can I love a stranger?
Strangers are souls that we
have not yet met.

Loving a stranger is easy as
it requires only our minds.

Once I decide that you are lovable
I will then bestow upon you the traits that
substantiate my claim.

It requires nothing of you.
You don't have to be anything other
than what I call you.

SIT AND BE STILL

Suddenly the absence of sound
in my head appears
like stars on a clear dark night.

The murky haze that had been my home
is lighted and I can see the world.

The world is new
as I accept what's before me.

My judgement no longer a player;
I am free.

Still I struggle to stay centered
in this place.

The pull of negative energies is
ceaseless, obstinate, unfaltering.

Tomorrow I may slip again.

Glory that all of life
is about this moment.

BETTER DAZE?


Rough patches and bumpy roads?

Sometime all I feel is sour;
like the smell of spoiled milk or rotten eggs.

Sometime I feel enshrouded and ensnared;
lines invisible tugging at my head and heart.

Sometime I hurt like a little boy and am angry like a man.

Occasionally dumbstruck, astounded I feel lost and afraid.

Still I am sure.

Sure that I am stronger for it.
Sure that I am better because of it.
Sure that I will never be free of it.

Better days ahead.

ALWAYS WHAT IF


Always I must wonder what if

What if she changed her mind
What if I were told when the first question appeared in my eyes

What if it all just didn’t mean shit

What if the void is never fully healed
What if I just grow up and move on
What if everyone stopped listening
What if the truth were told
What if the answer is so what
What if my babies misread my fears
What if my life never changes
What if I never make a difference
What if the meaning of it all is nothing
What if I live all my days in doubt
What if this is as good as it gets
What if I could change it all
What if I wouldn’t
What if the lesson is worth the loss
What if I am better then I might have been
What if I never again
asked what if…

THE WIND AND THE RIVER

Still, the silent lake top
calls to the weary traveler
I am your mother
the source of generations.

The wind howls through
the cowering trees,
I am your father
the breath of life
is my gift to you.

the weary traveler
turns up his collar
defiantly harnessing the wind
and fording up the river.

I am man
and I am boundless.
I no longer fear the wind.
I consume the rivers
and I stand alone
on high .

The medicine men
weep as the old ways
disappear into history.

Old women and ancient men
acrimoniously scorn their
offspring for undoubtedly what they have
wrought is insolence;
as it was
so shall it always
be

War torn nations
bleed one another
scoffing at nature’s revenge.

The wind and the river
remain;
filled with the futile cries
of the few
and the blood of the many.

I SWING

On a swing I glide,
sailing way above the world,
child like and care free.

The winds that blow beneath the swing
are foreign yet they hold no fear for me.

I swing above that world
and I am free of that world.

Free of the world that would stifle my growth.
Free of the world that would hold me prisoner.
Free to be alive.

I swing high and wide as the chain will carry me.

I swing in full force and effect with the power and blessing of God.

MY SALVATION

On the day you appeared I remember:
the beaming smile and twinkling eyes.

Your loving spirit
warmed the room, filling it with charm.

Remembering the days before you:
I was bitter and afraid of life itself.

Smoldering embers of a gentle benevolent
soul were kept alive and nurtured by your example.

Loving me so at a time when at the core
I had come to believe myself unlovable, lighting the way
that I might discover the joy of living.

Standing in the tides of triumphant self-realization
I have finally begun to see.
To see with new eyes the
eternal truth that is my birth-rite.

You have been my salvation:
my direction and my obsession.
I walk alone along the path
that love draws from nothing and everything that we are.

Smouldering embers kept alive
by your nurtured, patterned and unconditional love.

Wading in the tides of triumphant self-realization,
struggling with obessive depression; soaring to
mountainous heights from a stagnant meadow of malaise.

Your love has granted me boundless joys in these limited days.
Share a moment as I drink in your legacy the very gift of life.

I hide my face weeping yet before you I am strong.
The vacuum that is darkness, hollow and quiet calls to those that would
turn from change.

Shoulders stooped by the weight of
injustice and malice the bitter man sees only the ground in front of him.

The souls of those that would die for peace clash violently with those that
would kill for same and so it goes.

I think of you
in the quiet rush of the wind
I am pleased.

Joyful that you dropped into my life.

Live that your youth not feel squandered.
Fear not as you will see when the
light is for you.
The light that will show you the way.
The way that will bring you peace.

Flying high above the earth and low to the ground;
I soar with you as we have touched in time.

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When I think of you
in the quiet rush of the wind
across my face
I am pleased.

Pleased to have seen the innocence
in your bountiful eyes.
Joyful that you dropped into my life.

Your spirit comforts in the profound stillness
of our connection.
Soaring through the air
on the currents of promise and potential
your wings shall take you far.

Dreams of a better world
dancing beneath; smile that you
will help to usher in that world.

Embrace that which calls you front and center.
The forces that will seek to move you beyond your ring.
The ring that holds us safe yet unfulfilled as it is but a trap.

The rings we strive to secure that we hope will make us free.
Learning that true freedom is in the risk.
We walk cautiously toward the
light.

Live that your youth not feel squandered.
Fear not as you will see when the
light is for you.
The light that will show you the way.
The way that will bring you peace.

Flying high above the earth and low to the ground;
I soar with you as we have touched in time.

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Every day I remember the smile
that won my heart and restores
my faith.

Uncertain and always doubtful;
wrestling fear for the courage to
acquiesce.

In the sweet quiet of perfection
satiated; I am cradled in your
love.

The love that smiles
back at me; unique
as the planet and just as round.

Hold me with your tenderness
as I build castles in the sky.

The night that brings you to
my bed;a welcome friend.

Every day I remember the smile
that won my heart and restores
my faith.

That gift,
my God
my thanks
to thee.

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LOVE HAS IT'S PRICE

Building bridges to love
guides love to your door.

When two souls decide that
together they will share a life
that commitment is whole.

The balance lays barren and uncharted.

Bold travelers call forth the courage of destiny and
set out to chart new terrain.

In the midst of the
journey lay cliffs and valleys; strew with the charred remains
of old relationships.
Perserve the glitter in your lover's eyes;
summon the strength of your resolve.

There are no maps marked X where treasure can be found.
The winds of circumstance swirl with a fury at times or gently as
the ground beneath your feet turns to sand.

Many ships will be lured to the hidden rocks as land beckons beyond each horizon.
Torn and battered wrecks limping from dry dock to dry dock.
Many will jump ship afraid of the
dark mysteries of the deep.

Love has it's price.

Riding the tossing waves and battering winds.

Love has it's price.

Treasure as timeless and true as the call to mate;
fear only that love may pass you by.
Know the price.
Accept the cost.
Take the risk!

02020301

IT WAS NOT INSIDE

Everything is changing, changing.
I was pulled, squeezed, pushed
the world into a darkness,
almost crushed and burst unto the bright.

It was not inside.

I then felt the vibrations in a strange way.
bathing in the ripples;
I danced about sleepily reassured.
the ever-present hum of that sound;
It was my salvation when the twists, turns and bumps
got to be too much.

Suddenly up was down and floating was not the same.
Hurting me something that would not give.
Piercing brightness,
strange freakish sensations;
at once something other.

New sound aroused,
brightness to dark,
dark shapes cloaked in dark shadows.
Some sound seemed to center in
the heart of me.
Me. I this was different;
what is this I that I see?

Oh my, I am not inside!
What is this release?
Every second new.
Suddenly there’s I and you.
Small and afraid,
where is my deliverance?

I am not inside!

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Love is an illusion

Love is an illusion.
A flight of fancy shared in two dimensions.
Two dreams enmeshed.
Two visions side by side.
Sometime two people meet in close
proximity to that which they desire.


When need overrides reason and desperate hope
replaces judgment we feel that as love.
You and I must become we, or I become you
or love will not survive.

Hold the dreams of your perfect love to the light.
Seek to understand that love is an illusion.
Porous in places love must be supported.
Less a state then path, more a passage, less a revelation.

Love shall not be contained.
That which draws you out of yourself is love.
Understand that growth is a blessing; although it may just sting.

Love leaves changes in everything.
If you will not change love will leave you;
for she is a jealous mistress.

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