Monday, May 11, 2015

The dark thing lurks in my vision corners
the dark thing paces
beyond the doorway

Turbulence

why sad, young swallow
sloping playground, driving wind, downwind
your brothers fly far across field.

why sad, little swallow
sitting lonely on a branch in the the school yard
as downy skies accumulate overhead

leap
sad swallow, fly strong
across field and fence; the wind picks up
your wings, just to drop you
for joy to the grass; with a cry
you spin upward, skyward, darting through turbulence,
denying the first drops of rain.

Monday, November 10, 2014

The strength of God shows through your presence.
Broken one, heal me.

The strength of Faith show through your words.
Dying one, speak to me.

The strength of the Word has made you Golden,
His wisdom glows through you now,
I write with words, and your peace, unspoken
gives me all--His strength, and yours.
Open me
like silence waiting
Open me
like rings upon rings
open
like a trapt door
like a bad lock
like something well hidden, leaving dirt under your nails
long forgotten, yet undiscovered
like a closed book
like a sealed letter
like a strange, unlabeled box
in a bottom drawer
I have never been open
and I want to know who she is.



________________

Ice folds and I am found in winter.
Winter has grown to Spring.
Spring ended in fire.
Summer spent with little water
and now, exposed to
falling leaves, the Autumn season
becomes me, earth tones, golden weather,
time is slowing
and I want to know
what i have missed
what could have been
what might still be.

Equilibrium

I was spinning,
spiraling down, my hands reached
for balance, and I grabbed you.

But we never stopped falling.
We flailed instead, hoping, seeking.

Letting go, I feel a sense of peace,
like falling snow.

Watching you drop away, I know
my body is made lighter.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Remembrance

The house sounds good.
It moans with the tide of the wind,
not a hushing sound, not soothing, more
of a rush, a remembrance.

Lying beneath the metal roof of the back room, I listen to tilting timbers,
the old croaks of days long past, of weather and wear,
and the walls whisper--remember too much,
and you'll become lost in this place.
No gust of wind is the same--
make the voices new--
make the meaning new.

Your thoughts are weighed by sadness and mist; a damp fog surrounds your forehead.

You are in it, but don't know it yet.

Standing in the fog, waiting for a light to pop and save you.

You're in it now--and the fog is in you,
slowing thoughts, feeding fear, numbing senses.

Don't try to react,
you can't wade through it;
just wait.