I am a bizarre stranger nobody knows
Yet crushed to crumbs
My heart a swollen buffoon: useless, awkward
So inflexible and ignorant of needs and wishes
That others may carry a dream, a desire
Deeply in their pockets
And I, so callous, took no step
To carry them along, to encourage,
Never bringing a bit of joy, keeping a promise
And I shall stay
A villainous ghost to be put out in the cold
To grieve what pitiful effort I couldn’t make
And bear the chains of mortal life.
Hoof beats, one step at a time,
Press forward, out from the forest trail
Into the clearing where a fence separates
The world of the living from that of the dead
And as we pass by, a thoughtful bow
Of the head in deference to the life
They lived, pioneering the quiet corner
Of farms and forest and the wild
Making a tiny mark on the landscape
Though no notation in the annals of history
Was made for lack of the remarkable existence
Yet, for their solitude they could be heard
Singing and dancing and strumming a guitar
On warm summer nights after their work was done.
Simplicity, sincerity, their hallmarks,
One we could only hope to replicate.
Summer begins today.
What shall I do with it?
I can look over my shoulder
And call to mind what I cannot do
Whether from the basic necessities
I must have and nothing more
Or the loss of my health and strength
Or just the pain of accumulated years
Yet I have my dreams, my visions,
That can carry me across the sky
In a chariot with flaming horses
Or gather starfish at the seashore
I can go within to a quiet place
Where only I can sit high above a waterfall
And dive into the clear, crisp pond below
I can see colors that are only found in Heaven
I can discourse with the greatest minds of all time
I can climb mountains, traverse deserts,
Visit the marketplace of Marrakech
And be home for dinner.
My summer shall be a busy one, I think.
Little boxes made of gift wrapping paper
Hold shiny things so tiny
That they bring sparks of memory
To the feeble hands that open them
Hands misshapen with arthritis
But when the lid comes off
The eyes open wide with a smile
Knowing the occasion this sparkly necklace marked
Or that charmed ring signified
And it’s not so much the dollar value
That matters today or even tomorrow
But the love, the thought, the intention
Of the giver, whose only wish
Was to bring pleasure, joy, delight
To the receiver to wear and feel pretty.
Using just the right word
Helps to make the poem, the essay, the prose
Balanced, rhythmic, perfected
As if saying it “just so” makes all the difference
In the entire world to the writer
Supposing the reader doesn’t care so much
But the writer seeks to establish mood, tone
Conveying just the right energy and power,
Perhaps lightening it to faerie dust
Or slamming it like playing all the keys of a piano
Yes, each word is carefully chosen
Carefully placed on the page
Surrounded by other words waiting to light the cauldron
Creating pictures in the mind
And carrying the reader, held prisoner, to the end.
In the wild the creatures speak in tongues
And tell us with their movements
What we are to know
And in this walk of life if we will listen
We can hear the messages they bring
One by one, hidden amongst the trees,
The underbrush, their homes.
For they will watch our eyes
And they will feel the pitter-pat
Of our very hearts, strong or timid, fast or slow,
Our life’s breath, our intentions
If we can walk amongst our brothers
With respect, with honor, gently.
And if they judge us to be worthy
We can pass through their world unseen
Through the shadows of the trees.
Where am I today?
Am I securely grounded
So that I can see and know
Hear and understand what I will?
I will sit on the petal of a flower
Smell the scent of its nectar
But I will not be blinded by her beauty
And the color on which I sit
Will energize me and give me purpose
For each new day I will glow
Because I am a mirror of the sun
And each night I will drink the milky moon
And become the shadow that projects
Reason and wisdom and knowledge
I am everywhere today
Traversing time and gathering gifts
From the sunrise until the sunrise.
Beauty is not an aspect of a body well kept
Rather an aspect of the soul fed with Light
Who knows that reality is made from thought
And the heart holds a treasure worth more
Than any bank vault and more accessible
For what is felt and acknowledged in the mind
Can be used for the betterment of your company
The rest of the actors on your stage of Life
For if you offer your shoulder to a crying friend
Or feed the hungry, clothe the tattered,
Challenge the lost in spirit to see ahead
On the path strewn with rocks and potholes
You do so not for riches, nor for praise
But for the honor to serve, to lift someone
Out of the darkness they see on every corner
And give them a chance to see joy, be joy.
Have you the certainty, the strength, the desire?
Surely you can do nothing with your feeble self,
But the Creator empowers those who would lift
With a sky full of heavenly helpers each day
To brighten your countenance, to clear your vision,
To let you see beauty inside as well as out.
