Archive for the 'poetry' Category
Apr
2
He asks me,
why do you wear that,
I say, how can I explain
the sweetness of faith
to one who has never tasted
the sweetness of honey.
How can I explain
the coolness of my eye
to one who never
lived in the desert.
How can I explain
beauty and majesty
to a heart that’s blind.
I too wander and am weak,
I too wish others could see
…ME,
but I won’t give it up.
It’s mine.
I have lived in the light
and I won’t be oppressed
into the darkness.
Feb
5
Standing on the Edge of Broken Dreams
I’m standing at a precipice,
at the very edge.
The land I thought beneath me
turning to loose stone.
The wind battling against
my very soul.
Fear carves my insides like
vicious knives.
Nowhere to run.
Nowhere to hide.
Dreams long flown away
like the big black crows
with nests below.
Leaving me here.
Why am I not allowed,
O You who control my fate,
to change my destiny,
and return again?
Can You not fight every force
in the universe against me?
Can You not change every
circumstance around me?
O that I realized the lie before.
That this earth, sky, and rose
were a mocking illusion.
That the frozen rain, thorns and
carrion that eat one’s flesh
after too short a time were
all too real.
My heart calms.
Soon this night of the broken-hearted
will end.
Soon it will mean nothing at all.
No tears now.
No fear.
Sep
11
There are sad days, and
There are days that pierce your soul.
You remember every moment of that day.
You remember minute details of what you wore,
You remember the exact temperature,
You remember how the grass smelled, and
How the rain fell.
~
You remember in slow motion
That first moment of when you knew.
Imprinted in your mind forever.
When the sky fell in and complete disbelief, and
Confusion reigned.
~
Then you saw the proof, and
You still could not understand.
The questions followed, and
Then the blame.
If only I had done this,
If only I had done that,
If only one minute of time had been shifted,
What might have been.
~
Then the knowing,
Knowing,
Knowing.
And you can’t change anything.
Then grief.
Streams and rivers of grief.
Flowing freely,
Perhaps never ending.
Perhaps one day narrowing to a trickle
Or a sweet lake, so still,
But always there.
In your mind.
~
Sometimes the lake overflows and becomes a flood, and
You push it back even though your heart breaks.
Sometimes you don’t.
You just stand there and let it flow over you, and
Become one with your sadness.
Sometimes you stand there in anger, and
You dare the waves to come.
Angry at God, at destiny, at fortune, at circumstance.
But how can you be angry?
~
Then at last there are no tears left, and
You can only sit on the shore,
Tired, drained, given up.
Accepting.
Remembering.
With sorrow, and
Regret.
Not written for 9/11 but mood seems appropriate to post it today.
