A few months ago I was given the opportunity to share in the completion of the journey of a twenty-three year old woman in the prime of her life. Several weeks before her death Susie sat on her patio in the beginnings of a fine summer spring; the azaleas and dogwoods just coming out, knowing that her days were numbered to perhaps a week, a few at most. She noticed that a tree in the back of the garden had been heavily pruned. She wondered if that tree would live again, if anything would grow from it again. She wondered if she, herself, was like that tree; having been heavily pruned by glioblastoma.
Holy writings in many religion traditions tell us that pruning is a necessary part of life, that from pruning comes new growth, comes renewal. Certainly, from our perspective death, unemployment, terminal illness, divorce, cancer, heart disease and myriad other adversity represent the severest forms of pruning we can imagine. Pruning is at best a painful process. The brutally premature departure of Susie at the age of twenty-three represents a form of pruning that is never easy for those sharing it with the one traveling through it. It is certainly, no easier for the traveller going through it.
Life, that blessed sentient gift, is a great source of anguish when we are called to give it up or to traverse its often perverse gut-wrenching currents. There are those times when we are called to share in someone else's giving up of life or their journey through its sometimes strong dark currents. And, there are those times when we are called to give it up for ourselves. One thing is for certain, we will all be called to give it up for ourselves and most of us will get caught in the undertow of life's currents at one time or another. People of faith have something that can make that somber passage through the dark Valley easier. We have a message from the other side; a promise of a place prepared for us, a promise of a safe landing after, perhaps, a turbulent journey.
What this observer has found profoundly true is that even in the fleeting space of a week following severe loss, such as that of Susie, vibrant new shoots of fresh emerald growth can come forth; even from, perhaps, especially from the ashes of death. Perhaps, new shoots are to be found after all loss.
While driving to a city hundreds of miles distant to spend those last few moments with Susie before she went on to that Far Place we don't know the address for, a fresh sprout came forth. Then, while driving from the funeral home to spend time with Susie's family as they entered the brutality of that irrevocable journey, this new sprout enlarged. It bloomed with words; constellations of hope and comfort for those letting go of life, spouses, jobs, health, dreams. Over the next number of days and weeks many word pictures came to me. This book is the result of my harvest in the brief time since Susie's death.
To give a proper perspective on the miraculous nature of these poems, you need to know a bit about me. I have never had an interest in reading poems, let alone writing them; taking no training in writing. My training is in science and my days are spent working in hospital medical informatics.
Susie's mother and her grandmother have both seen these poems. It was with great trepidation that I sent a couple of these to them a mere three days after Susie's tragic departure took place, not knowing whether these were anointed or accursed words; whether they would provide comfort or not. Their first reaction was to exclaim they did not know I was a poet. I told them I didn't know I was a poet either. I'm not. These words merely passed through the word processor of someone who types with one finger on the left hand and four on the right.
These poems represent something truly new for me. Hopefully, these words really do come from a Higher Place and do represent something substantial from the Other Side that can provide comfort. A number of people tell me these words came from God. Another has told me I am John Dunn, reincarnate. Perhaps they came from what we Christians like to think of as the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Father. I know for sure they aren't mine. I claim no credit for them. Perhaps they are yours.
It is never easy to understand the death of a twenty-three year old to a brutal tumor, cut down in the prime of her life; her abundant radiant energy extinguished, taken away from this world. In attempting to minimize her loss, it only makes her death more brutal. These words are meant to acknowledge the magnitude of that loss. Your loss is no less brutal, no less worthy of acknowledgment.
It's easy to write words, trying to reduce your pain, or even eliminate your pain. I wish instead to acknowledge and share your loss. Certainly it is fertile soil for hope, growth, renewal. It is my hope that these word pictures can help you prepare your soil for next spring's growth; to give you at least the smallest sliver of Hope and possibility for the future, where you now have none. They come from beyond time or talent to help you work through the pain, knowing that healing, growth and renewal come from passing through the pain, not around it.
This book may have been given to you because you have just learned you are on the final phase of your journey, hearing dreadful words of finality and pain from your physician. You may have just helped another complete their journey. You may have just been fired from your job or found a note on the kitchen table from your husband telling you goodbye. Perhaps you have experienced the pain of seeing a beautiful forest cut down. You may lament the depersonalization and growing incivility of society. If you are reading these words, you are probably in need of great comfort. Simply knowing that others have been through your valley can be a great help.
I have sat in front of the physician's desk and heard dreaded words, watched backhoes fill in the void left by brutally premature death, jumped into the abyss of unemployment, seen most of the people around me suffer through divorce, experienced the incivility of society. Yet, life has been rich, meaningful, and well worth embracing.
I have actually only seen Susie once in my life yet I know our paths are forever linked in myriad ways; some of which would fill books. One of the last things Susie did before completing the business of dying, on our only shared visit, was to go with me on a blustery January afternoon to the orchid room in the botanical conservatory. While there I held Susie up to the flowers and asked her to memorize the colors, smell, and textures of these wonderful botanical miracles.
That evening I wrote down the words for "Orchid" which is found in these pages. I realized that these words were a memorial to a priceless experience. Orchids are magnificent memorials to what is good in life. Perhaps they are messengers of hope for the warm days that always come after winter. As it turns out, many of the words in these pages are memorials to events, encounters and experiences; many filled with poignancy, pain, and challenge. Yet, some were also rich cathartic ones. These pages should be thought of as memorials to the shared experiences of the many people these poems represent.
The dogwoods have finished their blooming now; azaleas are resting from their spectral outbursts. The warmth of summer is just memory around the edges of a short afternoon. Coolness of morning and evening is a bit more persistent than it was several weeks ago. We realize that the blessed time of summer, when we think of abundant verdant new growth coming out, is actually beginning to pass away. Summer is but for a season. At the same time we're finding that life has its seasons of growth. We are finding that Susie has her seasons. She has passed through the severity of what appears to be a final winter.
Even as the cold winds of loss and anguish howl in the hearts of family and friends, Susie who went through the harshest of pruning, is entering into a new season of growth, a new spring; going beyond the azaleas and growing into new experiences we can scarcely imagine. Shimmering shoots of growth are arising in several places here among the resting azaleas of our lives. I find even now, these words are shoots of new growth from her life, springing up in mine, watered by the tears of others. Even as you may be in the midst of life's winter, know that spring always comes after winter. Susie would be so pleased to know that from her tragedy has come sustenance and strength that can help you walk through your valley. Perhaps she really does know and is with you, whispering words of encouragement to you in the darkness.
The empyrean diamonds are most magnificent at midnight in winter.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Dimensions of Hope in Friendship
Friendship provides opportunity to indulge in nearly complete catharsis of joy with others. "Friend", "Underwear", "Prism", and "Encounter" describes such experience during daily life. Friends can bring radiant color to our souls. Friends empower us to slow down and smell the roses.
"Winter Dream" and "Dream Visitor" came in the middle of the night after awakening from intense dreams containing emotional splendors rarely encountered in life. I have had the great fortune of actually meeting and sharing life with the woman who revealed herself in these dreams. With friends we can etch contrails through the matrix of life. We can do all things.
"Mail", "Community" and "Advocate" speak to the great strength we can gain from our friendships. Self-doubt can be obliterated by the kinds words of a friend showing up in Monday's afternoon mail. The incivility of society can be replaced with loving wonderment. With the enablement of another, sharing complementary strengths, one can reach the stars. "Advocate" speaks of the time a dear friend prayed for me during an important milestone in my life.
Friendship can have its dark side. Marriage, the ultimate friendship can produce exquisite pain in its failure. "Reconciliation" acknowledges this and offers a bit of hope for broken relationships. On rare occasion, I have observed the vast healing that grows from reconciliation. A marriage was restored after many years of brokenness. "Angst" reveals shared pain between two lovers. Recently, a close friend suffered through the loss of an infant. "Empath" describers the healing that comes from sharing another's pain. Great comfort comes from casting aside our aloneness for friendship.
"Bench" describes an encounter with a memorial bench in a botanical garden where I sat musing about the short life for whom this bench had been given.
Advocate
Flying on the power of your prayer,
my satiated soul soars to secret Places.
A firm Hand sustains my ascension;
defying gravity's inexorable attraction.
Cobalt heavens wax star-studded ebony,
terra firma releasing me to Elysium.
Iridescent wisps in Cygnus beckon,
offering glimpse of nebular Marvels.
Obscuring Orion's opulent mysteries,
your devotion eclipses luminary wonders.
With you I can reach the stars.
Prism
Intense solar radiance, dazzling,
illuminates your interior with fire.
Beams of platinum brilliance, shimmering,
fracture into myriad spectral delights.
Deep dark recesses of my being, yielding,
are tantalized by your multi-hued facets.
You bring Color to my life.
Friend
I get caught up in circadian busyness.
You take time to peel apples and smile.
I eat mass-produced bread out of a bag.
You fill the air with delectate aromas.
I glimpse floral wonders while hurrying out.
You take time to water and nurture them.
I bring your tupperware back empty.
You send it back filled with life energy.
I make sure the cat has food and water.
You makes sure she purrs and plays.
When one falls alone, he stays down.
When he falls with a friend, he gets up.
Give the dog a biscuit for me.
Encounter
Basking in quiet pools of contentment,
You cast aureate nuggets into my life.
Serene surfaces, reflecting calm cumulus canopies,
are etched with contrails of Your endearing Presence.
Ever widening circles of shared joy grow,
creating latticeworks of Your phosphorescent Radiance.
Your inner Translucence dispels shadows,
illuminating the dark places in my soul.
Poverty of spirit is foreclosed,
redeemed by the sterling riches of your kinship.
May I take your hand?
Angst
Far away, tendrils of your heartache
extend darkness in the lingering night.
Cold mist shrouds my soul;
early morning warmth eluding me.
Shared pain galvanizing great grief,
I send prayers of petition Beyond Orion.
Your tears staining our hearts,
I look behind stars for your Comfort.
He answers.
Mail
Advertisements adjure accumulation,
invoices invoke immediate insult.
Magazines mentioning monstrous menace;
catalogues compel conspicuous consumption.
Renewals require requisite response,
annual assessment announcements appear.
Uncivil reminders committing affront;
I am but a wallet disguised as human.
Yet, I am far, far more,
one made in the image of God.
How know I this great secret?
Today, your kind words were delivered.
And the stamp wasn't cancelled.
Winter Dream
It is the time of quiet rest,
a still prelude to spring's wild abundance.
You come to me in dreamy darkness,
giving me a glimpse of radiant warmth.
My heart is alive, vibrant with expectancy;
you hold my hand, your smile thawing inner ice.
With kindred gazes, your eyes portals of life,
we dance across the cold crystalline matrix.
Our shared blades leaving frozen contrails,
guide seekers to a Higher Way.
Gothic splendor lifts our timeless joy;
we dance before our transfixed spectators,
the center of all life, of all knowledge.
Descendent snow muffins,
clouds of crystalline wonder;
your airborne breath of life,
frozen, solidifies in my reality.
My heart is warmed, fear has melted ...
You have taught me the dance of life.
I can do all things.
Dream Visitor
Did you come to me in a dream,
a wisp of fragrant possibility?
The darkness yielding to soft lumination,
your brightness fills my inner darkness.
Contented, safe, predictable, sure,
your seismic intrusion has me wondering.
Stillness, lost in the denseness of everything,
I believe you can help me find it again.
Contentment, that high difficult place to reach,
I don't want to come down from here.
Take my hand, perhaps we can climb higher.
Reconciliation
Our eyes met back across all those years,
our spirits filled with hopeful expectation.
Our idealism, wonderment, anticipation
fired our imaginations of what could be.
With grand dreams in hand,
we embarked on that timeless journey.
We exchanged tokens of majestic brilliance,
joyous spectators sent us off to our dream.
We awoke to circadian reality,
visions consigned to wisps of memory.
New fantasies occluded my consciousness,
consigning our dreams to lost memories.
Sixteen hour flights to fame and fortune,
they would fill the inner void, I heard.
Seven day marathons, more, more, more,
they told me would soon satisfy.
In your loneliness, you gave,
I never lacked for fuel.
As I raced, you made sure I shone,
my flight suit never wrinkled.
I consigned you to the dreamless desert,
no one there to share possibilities.
Your spirit withered in the heat of desertion,
you sought refreshment on your knees.
My wings carried me to the stratosphere,
my sights on the grand rewards of toil.
My spirit heavy with power and fame,
I cut you loose, hoping to gain altitude.
Little did I know, you were my rudder,
keeping me on a level path.
Little did I know you recorded my flight plan
each day with Him who makes the clouds.
Spiraling downward out of control,
beyond my limits, beyond myself, I cried out.
Another Pilot showed me the Way to safety;
coming on the updraft of your prayers.
Your love, rooted deep in true Water,
kept your thirst slaked in drought.
With your love unbounded by self,
you brought me water when I landed.
How about a nice walk?
Community
In these moments of stillness,
quietly gathering, we draw strength.
In silence we hear inner messages,
bringing us new hope and promise.
In our corporate solitude,
we celebrate communion of shared joy.
Flames of fellowship fanned,
incandescent radiance bursts forth.
We share the light of our lives,
bringing renewal and possibility.
Empath
Frigid winds blow away warmth of summer,
constellations of future dreams frozen in fear.
Azure skies of contentment give way;
twilight crowding out brilliance of day.
Starless night cloaks my sightless soul,
visions of life pushed beyond memory's edge.
Stumbling in terminal shadows of anguish,
searing pain blinds my fearful eyes to life.
Travelling alone into that uncharted valley,
vast loneliness isolates me from the living.
The dissonance of my silent suffering pausing,
Your Compassionate Presence enters the abyss with me.
Journeying into the horrors of my pain,
sympathetic sentience stirs in Your Soul.
I pause from my tribulations with wonderment,
Your shared torment easing the burden of letting go.
Healing words pushing back malignant despair,
glints of love in Your eyes dispel inner blackness.
In the refreshment of Your tears,
a healing possibility sprouts in my heart.
You will meet me there?
Underwear
Winter coldness penetrating icy soul,
your kindness warms me from within.
Shivering in the early morning chill,
I open my drawer looking for shorts.
Surprised, I find warmth and harmony,
the wrinkled morass ordered by your love.
I dance through the day.
Bench
Riding the electric trolley Sunday afternoon,
I shared joy with others living their dreams.
My day colorized with resplendent blooms,
hopeful expectations paint my aureate future.
This tranquil space, set aside for peace,
enfolds me in shimmering arboreal fantasy.
Walking in sacred cathedrals of spruce,
I came upon a memorial to your life.
Finely crafted wood, embellished with brass,
tells me your short life was of great value.
I wonder what gracious soul loved you;
wanting me to know of your brief sojourn.
What were your favorite comic strips?
Were you a Trekkie? Ever play baseball?
Did you ever fall in enraptured love?
Did you have communion at sunset with another?
Did you find your Way to that far Place,
where night never comes and pain is no more?
Mind if I sit down?
"Winter Dream" and "Dream Visitor" came in the middle of the night after awakening from intense dreams containing emotional splendors rarely encountered in life. I have had the great fortune of actually meeting and sharing life with the woman who revealed herself in these dreams. With friends we can etch contrails through the matrix of life. We can do all things.
"Mail", "Community" and "Advocate" speak to the great strength we can gain from our friendships. Self-doubt can be obliterated by the kinds words of a friend showing up in Monday's afternoon mail. The incivility of society can be replaced with loving wonderment. With the enablement of another, sharing complementary strengths, one can reach the stars. "Advocate" speaks of the time a dear friend prayed for me during an important milestone in my life.
Friendship can have its dark side. Marriage, the ultimate friendship can produce exquisite pain in its failure. "Reconciliation" acknowledges this and offers a bit of hope for broken relationships. On rare occasion, I have observed the vast healing that grows from reconciliation. A marriage was restored after many years of brokenness. "Angst" reveals shared pain between two lovers. Recently, a close friend suffered through the loss of an infant. "Empath" describers the healing that comes from sharing another's pain. Great comfort comes from casting aside our aloneness for friendship.
"Bench" describes an encounter with a memorial bench in a botanical garden where I sat musing about the short life for whom this bench had been given.
Advocate
Flying on the power of your prayer,
my satiated soul soars to secret Places.
A firm Hand sustains my ascension;
defying gravity's inexorable attraction.
Cobalt heavens wax star-studded ebony,
terra firma releasing me to Elysium.
Iridescent wisps in Cygnus beckon,
offering glimpse of nebular Marvels.
Obscuring Orion's opulent mysteries,
your devotion eclipses luminary wonders.
With you I can reach the stars.
Prism
Intense solar radiance, dazzling,
illuminates your interior with fire.
Beams of platinum brilliance, shimmering,
fracture into myriad spectral delights.
Deep dark recesses of my being, yielding,
are tantalized by your multi-hued facets.
You bring Color to my life.
Friend
I get caught up in circadian busyness.
You take time to peel apples and smile.
I eat mass-produced bread out of a bag.
You fill the air with delectate aromas.
I glimpse floral wonders while hurrying out.
You take time to water and nurture them.
I bring your tupperware back empty.
You send it back filled with life energy.
I make sure the cat has food and water.
You makes sure she purrs and plays.
When one falls alone, he stays down.
When he falls with a friend, he gets up.
Give the dog a biscuit for me.
Encounter
Basking in quiet pools of contentment,
You cast aureate nuggets into my life.
Serene surfaces, reflecting calm cumulus canopies,
are etched with contrails of Your endearing Presence.
Ever widening circles of shared joy grow,
creating latticeworks of Your phosphorescent Radiance.
Your inner Translucence dispels shadows,
illuminating the dark places in my soul.
Poverty of spirit is foreclosed,
redeemed by the sterling riches of your kinship.
May I take your hand?
Angst
Far away, tendrils of your heartache
extend darkness in the lingering night.
Cold mist shrouds my soul;
early morning warmth eluding me.
Shared pain galvanizing great grief,
I send prayers of petition Beyond Orion.
Your tears staining our hearts,
I look behind stars for your Comfort.
He answers.
Advertisements adjure accumulation,
invoices invoke immediate insult.
Magazines mentioning monstrous menace;
catalogues compel conspicuous consumption.
Renewals require requisite response,
annual assessment announcements appear.
Uncivil reminders committing affront;
I am but a wallet disguised as human.
Yet, I am far, far more,
one made in the image of God.
How know I this great secret?
Today, your kind words were delivered.
And the stamp wasn't cancelled.
Winter Dream
It is the time of quiet rest,
a still prelude to spring's wild abundance.
You come to me in dreamy darkness,
giving me a glimpse of radiant warmth.
My heart is alive, vibrant with expectancy;
you hold my hand, your smile thawing inner ice.
With kindred gazes, your eyes portals of life,
we dance across the cold crystalline matrix.
Our shared blades leaving frozen contrails,
guide seekers to a Higher Way.
Gothic splendor lifts our timeless joy;
we dance before our transfixed spectators,
the center of all life, of all knowledge.
Descendent snow muffins,
clouds of crystalline wonder;
your airborne breath of life,
frozen, solidifies in my reality.
My heart is warmed, fear has melted ...
You have taught me the dance of life.
I can do all things.
Dream Visitor
Did you come to me in a dream,
a wisp of fragrant possibility?
The darkness yielding to soft lumination,
your brightness fills my inner darkness.
Contented, safe, predictable, sure,
your seismic intrusion has me wondering.
Stillness, lost in the denseness of everything,
I believe you can help me find it again.
Contentment, that high difficult place to reach,
I don't want to come down from here.
Take my hand, perhaps we can climb higher.
Reconciliation
Our eyes met back across all those years,
our spirits filled with hopeful expectation.
Our idealism, wonderment, anticipation
fired our imaginations of what could be.
With grand dreams in hand,
we embarked on that timeless journey.
We exchanged tokens of majestic brilliance,
joyous spectators sent us off to our dream.
We awoke to circadian reality,
visions consigned to wisps of memory.
New fantasies occluded my consciousness,
consigning our dreams to lost memories.
Sixteen hour flights to fame and fortune,
they would fill the inner void, I heard.
Seven day marathons, more, more, more,
they told me would soon satisfy.
In your loneliness, you gave,
I never lacked for fuel.
As I raced, you made sure I shone,
my flight suit never wrinkled.
I consigned you to the dreamless desert,
no one there to share possibilities.
Your spirit withered in the heat of desertion,
you sought refreshment on your knees.
My wings carried me to the stratosphere,
my sights on the grand rewards of toil.
My spirit heavy with power and fame,
I cut you loose, hoping to gain altitude.
Little did I know, you were my rudder,
keeping me on a level path.
Little did I know you recorded my flight plan
each day with Him who makes the clouds.
Spiraling downward out of control,
beyond my limits, beyond myself, I cried out.
Another Pilot showed me the Way to safety;
coming on the updraft of your prayers.
Your love, rooted deep in true Water,
kept your thirst slaked in drought.
With your love unbounded by self,
you brought me water when I landed.
How about a nice walk?
Community
In these moments of stillness,
quietly gathering, we draw strength.
In silence we hear inner messages,
bringing us new hope and promise.
In our corporate solitude,
we celebrate communion of shared joy.
Flames of fellowship fanned,
incandescent radiance bursts forth.
We share the light of our lives,
bringing renewal and possibility.
Empath
Frigid winds blow away warmth of summer,
constellations of future dreams frozen in fear.
Azure skies of contentment give way;
twilight crowding out brilliance of day.
Starless night cloaks my sightless soul,
visions of life pushed beyond memory's edge.
Stumbling in terminal shadows of anguish,
searing pain blinds my fearful eyes to life.
Travelling alone into that uncharted valley,
vast loneliness isolates me from the living.
The dissonance of my silent suffering pausing,
Your Compassionate Presence enters the abyss with me.
Journeying into the horrors of my pain,
sympathetic sentience stirs in Your Soul.
I pause from my tribulations with wonderment,
Your shared torment easing the burden of letting go.
Healing words pushing back malignant despair,
glints of love in Your eyes dispel inner blackness.
In the refreshment of Your tears,
a healing possibility sprouts in my heart.
You will meet me there?
Underwear
Winter coldness penetrating icy soul,
your kindness warms me from within.
Shivering in the early morning chill,
I open my drawer looking for shorts.
Surprised, I find warmth and harmony,
the wrinkled morass ordered by your love.
I dance through the day.
Bench
Riding the electric trolley Sunday afternoon,
I shared joy with others living their dreams.
My day colorized with resplendent blooms,
hopeful expectations paint my aureate future.
This tranquil space, set aside for peace,
enfolds me in shimmering arboreal fantasy.
Walking in sacred cathedrals of spruce,
I came upon a memorial to your life.
Finely crafted wood, embellished with brass,
tells me your short life was of great value.
I wonder what gracious soul loved you;
wanting me to know of your brief sojourn.
What were your favorite comic strips?
Were you a Trekkie? Ever play baseball?
Did you ever fall in enraptured love?
Did you have communion at sunset with another?
Did you find your Way to that far Place,
where night never comes and pain is no more?
Mind if I sit down?
Dimensions of Hope in Illness
Perhaps the greatest challenge we face is the radical loss of health; the companionship of physical and emotional pain. "Currents" characterizes the uncertainty of life, yet there is a promise of hope as we are carried through life's currents; sometimes being thrown on the rocks of severe illness or relational loss. This poem was inspired when a dear friend fell over some rapids and landed on the rocks below.
"Fountain" reminds us that in our dark hours we thrive on hope. After hearing a dreaded pronouncement from a physician I gained renewal beside a fountain inside a tropical conservatory. Today I bask in health. The possibility is there for you as well when you cast in your offering of hope.
"Prognosis" acknowledges the severe blast that comes from hearing the pronouncement cancer from a physician. The fear and darkness overtaking us masks the brilliance of day. Yet, in the blackness of night, stars offer us a map to Hope beyond our hour of suffering.
"Silver Lining" tells us that good came come from this great trial. A cancer patient inspired this poem when she told me that cancer had taught her just how blue the sky really is and how priceless friendship really is. Years after her diagnosis she lives radiantly.
"Respirator" comes from the inspiration of a physician who has lived forty years in an iron lung as a result of severe polio during his medical training. He was able to transcend his challenge, support a family, and practice forty years of compassionate medicine and write his story for me to read. One day he will not need his respirator.
"Thief" describes the robbery of life's spirit by depression. While in a grocery story on a Sunday afternoon I observed several people in the depths of depression, unable to see the cerulean brilliance of an October day. Yet, for them there are Possibilities.
"Tumor" portrays the perceived finality of neoplasm run amok in our bodies. Susie lost a battle to tumor but her Hope, and mine, says she will in the long run win the war; perhaps has already done so.
"Virus" describes the emotional and physical carnage that occurs when a viral epidemic sweeps through equatorial Africa. Unseen, unknown, they transform tranquility to horror. Yet, Hope has a place in the viral battlefields of Africa. Belgian nuns died for that Hope in Kenya, fighting disease.
Currents
We wade into life's uncertain waters,
forfeiting security in firm foundations.
Buoyant with frivolity, faith, fantasy;
Fate carries us beyond archived memory.
Reliving adolescent arboreal adventures,
we leap into the river's enfolding embrace.
Hand in hand we drift onward, downward;
above, dappled canopies resonating with song.
Iridescent impossibilities, curious, inquiring,
show off their airborne entomologic wonders.
Distant thunder, barely audible, quietly screams;
sun-drenched tranquility dispersed by foreboding.
Reality sweeps us into frenzied free fall,
lacerating us on scabrous edges of cold terror.
Neoplastic swirls pulling you under,
I struggle to revive you with Hope.
White water inundating your soul,
we cling to a Promise of still waters.
Evening Star reflected in dusky stillness,
malignant despair transmutes to serenity.
The hoot owl is silent.
Fountain
In profound darkness we walked;
tribulation of uncertainty before us.
Pain masking brilliance of day,
You were there in our shared gloom.
Frolicking in Your effervescent flow,
feathered messengers chirped assurance.
Myriad coins of the realm glisten;
offerings for unspoken dreams.
In poverty of spirit we made a gift,
mingling secrets with those of others.
Basking in Your alabaster basins,
we shared sumptuous refreshment.
In the tumult of Your cascade,
a sprout of Hope was watered.
My wish has come true.
Prognosis
Tropical summer breezes cooling cobalt heavens,
delectate contentment warms my satiated soul.
Feathered celebrants sing melodies of life;
effervescent ocean waves of gentle renewal.
Crustacean curiosities scamper before me,
dancing on sands of crystalline brilliance.
Frolicking in foamy fantasy,
my feet create motifs of jubilation.
Tomorrow holds aureate possibilities,
faith stemming from today's sterling reality.
Unnoticed, small harbingers form at empyrean edge,
scudding across the burnished skies of being.
Standing before your throne of judgement,
frigid fear freezes my heart mid-beat.
Overflowed by the thunder of your words,
breakers of dread plunge me in darkness.
Swells of apprehension agitate my spirit;
mottled with panic, hope, anguish, pleas.
Setting sun sends chills through me,
ominous certainty of demise before me.
In the astral diamonds of blackest night,
His glittering Hope is made manifest.
Respirator
Shadow creeps across your spirit,
uncertainty crystallizing in your soul.
Your heart throbbing with dark foreboding,
sacred sleep has been driven from night.
In darkness of night you cry out in loss,
once you danced, made love, laughed, dreamed.
An unseen hideous power robs you,
consigning you to prisons of stillness.
Your sinews rendered impotent,
blessed breath of life eludes you.
Your days merge into endless winter,
myriad joys of summer nearly forgotten.
Engineers keep you breathing,
their machines mocking your vitality.
In the far recesses of your anguish,
Hope germinates, giving grand possibilities.
He shall wipe away every tear from your eyes,
and there shall no longer be any death.
There shall no longer be any mourning, crying, pain.
Silver Lining
Your name provokes malignant dread,
chasing tranquility into yesterday's dreams.
Neoplastic anxiety contaminates day,
transmuting dazzling brilliance to ominous shadow.
White-coated harbingers of pronouncement,
proclaim your morbid knock at my door.
Searing winds of uncertainty leave me breathless,
teetering, falling back, crying, grieving.
Sleepless nights drive me to exhausted slumber,
cooling incendiary fears of your wrath.
Night gives way to dawn's translucence,
illuminating thunderheads of trepidation.
Afternoon showers refreshing my wounded soul,
sprouts of possibility rise in the ashes of my future.
Transected by solar fires, clouds yield,
entrancing me with grand cerulean majesty.
Cosmic jewels mark the Way in coming night,
constellations of friends holding my hands.
Cancer, you have opened my heart to life.
Thief
Wandering among succulent possibilities,
your path crosses mine, giving me pause.
Wondering where your journey has taken you,
I search your face for life's igniting spark.
In unguarded moments, glistening with sadness,
your melancholy eyes reveal a ransacked soul.
Joy fills radiant afternoons of Indian summer,
yet your heart has been robbed of jubilation.
Astral brilliance fills empyrean canopies,
yet your spirit shivers in frigid shadow.
Once dancing to cosmic euphonies;
your life's melody has been plundered
Once you giggled with child-like glee.
Depression's malefactor has stolen hope.
Hearing only the solitude of despair,
silence screams with your anguish.
Unto us a child is born.
Tumor
They tell us you will win,
that the odds are in your favor:
Glioblastoma 98%, life 2%.
For now we empower you with our fear, our pain.
We anguish for those that you have beaten;
those cut down in their springtime.
My young flower spends her day in darkness,
yet the sun brightly shines.
You gloat over your cruel victory.
You tell us to live a life of dread, of fear,
to know only hopelessness, loss, pain.
Another came to tell us "I come that you might have life,
that you might have it abundantly."
He says "And the dead shall rise again."
My flower will bloom again ...
again ...
again ...
Tumor, you have lost!
Virus
Your virulence diminishes equatorial brilliance,
driving us into fearful darkness.
Tropical abundance, exuberant with life,
is silenced in dreaded anticipation.
Unseen, barely alive, without thought,
you crash through the canopy of life.
Invisible harbingers of hopeless horror,
you transmute hope to anguish and pain,
Your crystalline matrix making mockery,
transfigures vitality to languor.
With reckless abandon you vanquish,
only to perish in your carnage of greed.
Fragrant whispers of Hope sooth my soul,
speaking of Something beyond heinous horror.
A still small Voice speaks of One,
who has prepared a Place for me,
in the presence of my enemies.
"Fountain" reminds us that in our dark hours we thrive on hope. After hearing a dreaded pronouncement from a physician I gained renewal beside a fountain inside a tropical conservatory. Today I bask in health. The possibility is there for you as well when you cast in your offering of hope.
"Prognosis" acknowledges the severe blast that comes from hearing the pronouncement cancer from a physician. The fear and darkness overtaking us masks the brilliance of day. Yet, in the blackness of night, stars offer us a map to Hope beyond our hour of suffering.
"Silver Lining" tells us that good came come from this great trial. A cancer patient inspired this poem when she told me that cancer had taught her just how blue the sky really is and how priceless friendship really is. Years after her diagnosis she lives radiantly.
"Respirator" comes from the inspiration of a physician who has lived forty years in an iron lung as a result of severe polio during his medical training. He was able to transcend his challenge, support a family, and practice forty years of compassionate medicine and write his story for me to read. One day he will not need his respirator.
"Thief" describes the robbery of life's spirit by depression. While in a grocery story on a Sunday afternoon I observed several people in the depths of depression, unable to see the cerulean brilliance of an October day. Yet, for them there are Possibilities.
"Tumor" portrays the perceived finality of neoplasm run amok in our bodies. Susie lost a battle to tumor but her Hope, and mine, says she will in the long run win the war; perhaps has already done so.
"Virus" describes the emotional and physical carnage that occurs when a viral epidemic sweeps through equatorial Africa. Unseen, unknown, they transform tranquility to horror. Yet, Hope has a place in the viral battlefields of Africa. Belgian nuns died for that Hope in Kenya, fighting disease.
Currents
We wade into life's uncertain waters,
forfeiting security in firm foundations.
Buoyant with frivolity, faith, fantasy;
Fate carries us beyond archived memory.
Reliving adolescent arboreal adventures,
we leap into the river's enfolding embrace.
Hand in hand we drift onward, downward;
above, dappled canopies resonating with song.
Iridescent impossibilities, curious, inquiring,
show off their airborne entomologic wonders.
Distant thunder, barely audible, quietly screams;
sun-drenched tranquility dispersed by foreboding.
Reality sweeps us into frenzied free fall,
lacerating us on scabrous edges of cold terror.
Neoplastic swirls pulling you under,
I struggle to revive you with Hope.
White water inundating your soul,
we cling to a Promise of still waters.
Evening Star reflected in dusky stillness,
malignant despair transmutes to serenity.
The hoot owl is silent.
Fountain
In profound darkness we walked;
tribulation of uncertainty before us.
Pain masking brilliance of day,
You were there in our shared gloom.
Frolicking in Your effervescent flow,
feathered messengers chirped assurance.
Myriad coins of the realm glisten;
offerings for unspoken dreams.
In poverty of spirit we made a gift,
mingling secrets with those of others.
Basking in Your alabaster basins,
we shared sumptuous refreshment.
In the tumult of Your cascade,
a sprout of Hope was watered.
My wish has come true.
Prognosis
Tropical summer breezes cooling cobalt heavens,
delectate contentment warms my satiated soul.
Feathered celebrants sing melodies of life;
effervescent ocean waves of gentle renewal.
Crustacean curiosities scamper before me,
dancing on sands of crystalline brilliance.
Frolicking in foamy fantasy,
my feet create motifs of jubilation.
Tomorrow holds aureate possibilities,
faith stemming from today's sterling reality.
Unnoticed, small harbingers form at empyrean edge,
scudding across the burnished skies of being.
Standing before your throne of judgement,
frigid fear freezes my heart mid-beat.
Overflowed by the thunder of your words,
breakers of dread plunge me in darkness.
Swells of apprehension agitate my spirit;
mottled with panic, hope, anguish, pleas.
Setting sun sends chills through me,
ominous certainty of demise before me.
In the astral diamonds of blackest night,
His glittering Hope is made manifest.
Respirator
Shadow creeps across your spirit,
uncertainty crystallizing in your soul.
Your heart throbbing with dark foreboding,
sacred sleep has been driven from night.
In darkness of night you cry out in loss,
once you danced, made love, laughed, dreamed.
An unseen hideous power robs you,
consigning you to prisons of stillness.
Your sinews rendered impotent,
blessed breath of life eludes you.
Your days merge into endless winter,
myriad joys of summer nearly forgotten.
Engineers keep you breathing,
their machines mocking your vitality.
In the far recesses of your anguish,
Hope germinates, giving grand possibilities.
He shall wipe away every tear from your eyes,
and there shall no longer be any death.
There shall no longer be any mourning, crying, pain.
Silver Lining
Your name provokes malignant dread,
chasing tranquility into yesterday's dreams.
Neoplastic anxiety contaminates day,
transmuting dazzling brilliance to ominous shadow.
White-coated harbingers of pronouncement,
proclaim your morbid knock at my door.
Searing winds of uncertainty leave me breathless,
teetering, falling back, crying, grieving.
Sleepless nights drive me to exhausted slumber,
cooling incendiary fears of your wrath.
Night gives way to dawn's translucence,
illuminating thunderheads of trepidation.
Afternoon showers refreshing my wounded soul,
sprouts of possibility rise in the ashes of my future.
Transected by solar fires, clouds yield,
entrancing me with grand cerulean majesty.
Cosmic jewels mark the Way in coming night,
constellations of friends holding my hands.
Cancer, you have opened my heart to life.
Thief
Wandering among succulent possibilities,
your path crosses mine, giving me pause.
Wondering where your journey has taken you,
I search your face for life's igniting spark.
In unguarded moments, glistening with sadness,
your melancholy eyes reveal a ransacked soul.
Joy fills radiant afternoons of Indian summer,
yet your heart has been robbed of jubilation.
Astral brilliance fills empyrean canopies,
yet your spirit shivers in frigid shadow.
Once dancing to cosmic euphonies;
your life's melody has been plundered
Once you giggled with child-like glee.
Depression's malefactor has stolen hope.
Hearing only the solitude of despair,
silence screams with your anguish.
Unto us a child is born.
Tumor
They tell us you will win,
that the odds are in your favor:
Glioblastoma 98%, life 2%.
For now we empower you with our fear, our pain.
We anguish for those that you have beaten;
those cut down in their springtime.
My young flower spends her day in darkness,
yet the sun brightly shines.
You gloat over your cruel victory.
You tell us to live a life of dread, of fear,
to know only hopelessness, loss, pain.
Another came to tell us "I come that you might have life,
that you might have it abundantly."
He says "And the dead shall rise again."
My flower will bloom again ...
again ...
again ...
Tumor, you have lost!
Virus
Your virulence diminishes equatorial brilliance,
driving us into fearful darkness.
Tropical abundance, exuberant with life,
is silenced in dreaded anticipation.
Unseen, barely alive, without thought,
you crash through the canopy of life.
Invisible harbingers of hopeless horror,
you transmute hope to anguish and pain,
Your crystalline matrix making mockery,
transfigures vitality to languor.
With reckless abandon you vanquish,
only to perish in your carnage of greed.
Fragrant whispers of Hope sooth my soul,
speaking of Something beyond heinous horror.
A still small Voice speaks of One,
who has prepared a Place for me,
in the presence of my enemies.
Dimensions of Hope in Death
Death is the final curtain from which we believe none have ever come back to tell us it is OK on the other side. Yet, we do have recent near-death testimonials in large numbers that can fire our imaginations and give us hope. Others of us obtain our Hope from religious faith that has endured the centuries. Jesus' resurrection from the tomb is one of the most enduring, if not most enduring, of all stories in the religious traditions
"Backhoe" describes my experience at the grave side ceremony in which Susie was consigned to the unknown. A backhoe sitting ten feet from the grave made its presence known with its creaking hydraulics. Its operator sat on a tombstone next to it, impatient for us to finish our business so he could go home for the day. Susie didn't have that choice.
"Orchid" is the memorial to the linkage Susie and I formed that January day in the Orchid house. Perhaps her last memories on earth were of orchids. My memories of her recall the enchantment she experienced there. Certainly I am richer for the experience.
"Traveller" speaks to the journey we will all one day make. Our Hope is that One will be waiting there for us and give us validation of the Hope we held near and dear on this side.
While peeling apples in the middle of the night with a contented cat under my bare toes, I remembered Susie's life here on earth. in "Remembrance" I offered her a bowl of applesauce hoping that we never forget her in our busyness.
One day while driving to the mountains for a Sunday hike I killed a cat on the highway. This is something I have always dreaded doing, especially since I considered cats highly virtuous creatures of civility. In "Lament" I pondered the unknown fates that brought us to the same place in space and time. I wondered if some child cried that night, unable to find a prized pet. Worse yet, did that child find the evidence of my misdeed?
At Susie's wake I found her enshrined in fragrant floral cascades. "Wake" makes note of the people we rarely see and saw this time only because a death had brought them out of their frenetic busy schedules. Susie offered them a chance to slow down and ask themselves where they are going in life. Susie would know.
Backhoe
A dear friend has just flown beyond,
to that place from which postcards never come.
Raw earth, newly dug, squints in the brightness of day,
still used to its subterranean darkness.
You rest, your hydraulics still creaking,
your yellow earth-stained maw downcast.
We survivors take refuge in life,
our young traveller in her mahogany shrine.
The preachers tell us of hope and safety,
the raw still-steaming earth, of brutality.
Family and friends disperse to life,
seeking to believe the message heard.
You consign our young flower to the blackness,
your maw re-filling the earthen void.
The Son has risen, to meet our traveller.
Orchid
You come to me in your hour of great anguish;
the sands are nearly gone from your glass.
Your blossom too, is fading, your spirit heavy,
your pain reminding you of the shortness of time.
I too know loss, my blooms quickly fail;
much of life for me is without color.
I most often being little more than weed,
rarely enchant you with my splendor.
You, a young flower in His image, fearful of fading,
come share in the fragrance of my bloom,
delight in the vibrancy of my spectral outburst.
For a moment, we will share our blooms together,
remember me in your darkness,
it is in darkness we best rest.
We will both bloom again,
I for but a short season,
For you, your sands will never again fail.
The Gardener tends us both.
Traveller
You have gone before us to a far place,
as yet uncharted on the maps of life.
Quietly, in a star-studded void of night,
you steal away with unsaid words of farewell.
Our dreams of shared journeys shattered,
your destination is veiled in mystery.
Golden hues of dawn scream out in pain,
loneliness is our wordless companion,
Circadian monotony drives our days forward,
your silence deafening us with anguish.
The glare of solar fusion wilts our hope,
vast emptiness devouring our substance.
Flecks of luminous color dapple our hearts,
quiet peace cooling incendiary despair.
Silence gives way to blessed assurance;
traveling with us until we again touch wings.
The Pilot stands a'fore us,
guiding us to your port.
Dusky iridescence gives way to celestial diamonds,
mapping His Way with Hope.
Put the key under the mat.
Remembrance
It is the middle of night,
yesterday having been gone an hour.
All is pleasantly quiet in our lives.
Peeling summer apples with their solar bounty,
rubbing the cat's fuzzy head with my toes
pleasant thoughts of you give me pause.
When you left so early, time wavered,
leaving us lost in idle desolation,
wondering how we could go on without you.
Our lives have gone on these months;
busyness creeping back in from the edges;
The cacophony of our crisis slowly receding.
Cinnamon fills us with it's promising aroma.
My feline friend embraces the sanctity of our moment.
Recollection of your smile fills my soul.
Would you like some apple sauce?
Lament
Solar radiance illuminated your day,
promising hours of frolicking feline fun.
The rising astral pendant gilded my day,
offering omens of actualization and catharsis.
Unknown to us both, our paths converged,
shared ignorance keeping us in summer bliss.
Serpentine ribbons of asphalt beckoning,
I set off for ascendant possibilities.
Greener grass on the other side seducing,
you sprinted across into your destiny.
In the fusion of our fates you faltered,
never seeing the apparition that befell you.
Melancholy shadows darkening my soul,
a young child cries, wondering why.
I couldn't stop in time.
Wake
Suddenly, still silence abounds,
there is time for contemplation.
Screaming voices of achievement yield to
small whispers of quiet reflection.
You regret circadian busyness,
crowding out what could have been.
Tentative in spirit, unsure of your words,
you offer hopeful musings to mourners.
You lay ambrosial flowers on my shrine,
encasing me in retrospective affection.
Passing on, I left you in the fast track.
Aromatic gardens beckon a lane change.
In this redolent parlor of reflection,
a Pathway leads to abundant life.
Let me show you the Way.
"Backhoe" describes my experience at the grave side ceremony in which Susie was consigned to the unknown. A backhoe sitting ten feet from the grave made its presence known with its creaking hydraulics. Its operator sat on a tombstone next to it, impatient for us to finish our business so he could go home for the day. Susie didn't have that choice.
"Orchid" is the memorial to the linkage Susie and I formed that January day in the Orchid house. Perhaps her last memories on earth were of orchids. My memories of her recall the enchantment she experienced there. Certainly I am richer for the experience.
"Traveller" speaks to the journey we will all one day make. Our Hope is that One will be waiting there for us and give us validation of the Hope we held near and dear on this side.
While peeling apples in the middle of the night with a contented cat under my bare toes, I remembered Susie's life here on earth. in "Remembrance" I offered her a bowl of applesauce hoping that we never forget her in our busyness.
One day while driving to the mountains for a Sunday hike I killed a cat on the highway. This is something I have always dreaded doing, especially since I considered cats highly virtuous creatures of civility. In "Lament" I pondered the unknown fates that brought us to the same place in space and time. I wondered if some child cried that night, unable to find a prized pet. Worse yet, did that child find the evidence of my misdeed?
At Susie's wake I found her enshrined in fragrant floral cascades. "Wake" makes note of the people we rarely see and saw this time only because a death had brought them out of their frenetic busy schedules. Susie offered them a chance to slow down and ask themselves where they are going in life. Susie would know.
Backhoe
A dear friend has just flown beyond,
to that place from which postcards never come.
Raw earth, newly dug, squints in the brightness of day,
still used to its subterranean darkness.
You rest, your hydraulics still creaking,
your yellow earth-stained maw downcast.
We survivors take refuge in life,
our young traveller in her mahogany shrine.
The preachers tell us of hope and safety,
the raw still-steaming earth, of brutality.
Family and friends disperse to life,
seeking to believe the message heard.
You consign our young flower to the blackness,
your maw re-filling the earthen void.
The Son has risen, to meet our traveller.
Orchid
You come to me in your hour of great anguish;
the sands are nearly gone from your glass.
Your blossom too, is fading, your spirit heavy,
your pain reminding you of the shortness of time.
I too know loss, my blooms quickly fail;
much of life for me is without color.
I most often being little more than weed,
rarely enchant you with my splendor.
You, a young flower in His image, fearful of fading,
come share in the fragrance of my bloom,
delight in the vibrancy of my spectral outburst.
For a moment, we will share our blooms together,
remember me in your darkness,
it is in darkness we best rest.
We will both bloom again,
I for but a short season,
For you, your sands will never again fail.
The Gardener tends us both.
Traveller
You have gone before us to a far place,
as yet uncharted on the maps of life.
Quietly, in a star-studded void of night,
you steal away with unsaid words of farewell.
Our dreams of shared journeys shattered,
your destination is veiled in mystery.
Golden hues of dawn scream out in pain,
loneliness is our wordless companion,
Circadian monotony drives our days forward,
your silence deafening us with anguish.
The glare of solar fusion wilts our hope,
vast emptiness devouring our substance.
Flecks of luminous color dapple our hearts,
quiet peace cooling incendiary despair.
Silence gives way to blessed assurance;
traveling with us until we again touch wings.
The Pilot stands a'fore us,
guiding us to your port.
Dusky iridescence gives way to celestial diamonds,
mapping His Way with Hope.
Put the key under the mat.
Remembrance
It is the middle of night,
yesterday having been gone an hour.
All is pleasantly quiet in our lives.
Peeling summer apples with their solar bounty,
rubbing the cat's fuzzy head with my toes
pleasant thoughts of you give me pause.
When you left so early, time wavered,
leaving us lost in idle desolation,
wondering how we could go on without you.
Our lives have gone on these months;
busyness creeping back in from the edges;
The cacophony of our crisis slowly receding.
Cinnamon fills us with it's promising aroma.
My feline friend embraces the sanctity of our moment.
Recollection of your smile fills my soul.
Would you like some apple sauce?
Lament
Solar radiance illuminated your day,
promising hours of frolicking feline fun.
The rising astral pendant gilded my day,
offering omens of actualization and catharsis.
Unknown to us both, our paths converged,
shared ignorance keeping us in summer bliss.
Serpentine ribbons of asphalt beckoning,
I set off for ascendant possibilities.
Greener grass on the other side seducing,
you sprinted across into your destiny.
In the fusion of our fates you faltered,
never seeing the apparition that befell you.
Melancholy shadows darkening my soul,
a young child cries, wondering why.
I couldn't stop in time.
Wake
Suddenly, still silence abounds,
there is time for contemplation.
Screaming voices of achievement yield to
small whispers of quiet reflection.
You regret circadian busyness,
crowding out what could have been.
Tentative in spirit, unsure of your words,
you offer hopeful musings to mourners.
You lay ambrosial flowers on my shrine,
encasing me in retrospective affection.
Passing on, I left you in the fast track.
Aromatic gardens beckon a lane change.
In this redolent parlor of reflection,
a Pathway leads to abundant life.
Let me show you the Way.
Dimensions of Hope in Life Changes
Living in a rapidly transforming society with daunting technological and structural changes has created a whole new array of emotional stresses for millions of people. Overlaying this with the reality of the passage of our few short years on earth can produce a major challenge for us. Acknowledgement of this changing reality can help take the edgeness off our discomfort.
Many of us come to the mid point of our earthly journey and find ourselves lamenting the passage of time. In "Mid-life" I wonder about the idealism of youth that gave way to the cynicism of middle age and the regrets for things left undone; mountains unclimbed. Yet, there is the miraculous possibility of reclamation of loss opportunity, if we are open to them. "Temporal Reality" was my response to my own personal realization that I have already passed the point of no-return on my earthly travels. I don't have all the answers yet for this.
A major life change experienced by more and more of us is unemployment as a result of down-sizing, out-sourcing, merger mania, corporate reengineering. Whatever we call it, the result is often quite traumatic and frightening. Job security is no more. "Freefall" describes the experience of a friend recently fired from her job without cause. I have passed through unemployment several times and there is a weightless feeling, for certain. But, a cobalt sky overhead.
Several million Americans have been placed in nursing homes, often against their will. A professor friend of mine faced the reality of closing his parent's home and placing them in a facility because of rapidly declining health. In "Nursing Home" there can be hopeful possibilities beyond barren tile floors and semi-private rooms.
While driving from South Carolina to Alabama for Susie's funeral I passed through two severe weather fronts. I had been told just before leaving that there were some uncertainties about my employment. While driving from the funeral home to the home of Susie's parents, it occurred to me that all the beautiful flowers would in three days be wilted and in a landfill. About the same time I encountered a massive multi-car accident with fatalities at rush hour. In "Changes" it occurred to me that Easter was only two weeks away.
Mid-Life
Solar fusion wilting morning dreams,
past memories of future fantasy fade.
Far back in yellowed archives of remembrance,
a wide-eyed champion battled for a better world.
Yet unburdened by the sands of time,
strength of youth carried me upward.
Morning mist watering seeds of knowledge,
I set forth to educate an unknowing world.
Idealism of youth transmuted to adult cynicism,
I struggle to pay the mortgage, alimony, taxes.
Wondering what went wrong where,
heaviness of decades lost presses down.
He will restore the years the locusts have eaten.
Free Fall
Flinging the sterling portal open,
a vast yawning chasm opens before my feet.
Buffeted by stratospheric currents,
my serenity is blasted beyond towers of cumulus.
Memories of terra firma's safety forgotten,
doubt's dagger digs deep into my soul.
Hesitation haunting my hold on sanity,
I step from security into vast vulnerability.
Painful panic powering me earthward,
I place my trust in Another's Work.
Rejuvenating shadow opens above me,
my terminal terror yanked beyond.
Surreal stellar silence enfolds me,
proclaiming myriad possibilities.
An astral pendant I am,
hung from an empyrean diamond.
Weightless, sands of time stand still,
all of life's dreams yet before me.
Be sure to look Up.
Nursing Home
The shadows dance on the walk,
a silent requiem for what once was.
Shuffling forward, to the aseptic unknown,
you leave behind myriad memories.
Four decades of joys, tears, laughs;
sold to the highest bidder.
Supper arrives in a plastic tray,
erasing remembrance of Wedgewood with family.
Leaves falls, exposing the leaden sky,
Autumn has turned to winter.
Is it true, autumn colors really end?
Mercifully, you never did know.
The bitterness of winter has come to you,
wind, uncertainty, the unknown howling.
Christmas comes in winter
Temporal Reality
Wondering what the world was like on VE day,
a long half century in the distant past,
my brother was already making his mark.
While discarding a scientific report, once cutting edge,
the copyright date tells me it is ancient,
being printed seven years after my graduation.
Remembering the shootings at Kent State;
how intense and real that turbulent era seemed,
I realize a quarter century of life has quietly slipped by.
Nearly a third of a century ago,
while I was discovering girls in junior high school,
John Kennedy was blasted beyond to the unknown.
Today satellites travel beyond the planets,
four decades into the space age;
Sputnik wouldn't happen until third grade.
My office has four high speed computers,
I wonder how I ever worked without them.
In college I used a slide rule and pencil.
In the year of my college graduation,
3.5 billion people crowded the earth.
5.3 billion did so several years ago.
When I went to college I was debt free,
the Federal government was debt free.
Today I and it owe nearly five trillion.
I went to the most expensive university in America,
Two thousand a year; tuition, room, food, and a maid.
This year I spent two thousand for a four-day seminar.
A crooning mother brings a daughter to church,
her grandmother born long ago;
more than a decade after I first breathed.
Is this what they call middle age?
Changes
Change, the inevitable seasoning of life,
Today I learn my job may be eliminated.
The cerulean benevolence above
gives way to a leaden tempest.
The state names, the city names;
they are becoming foreign.
My young flower wilts in the torrid heat
of neoplastic frenzy.
There is no one to water her garden.
The botanical delights will in days be
but as solid waste for compost.
The polished mahogany shrine will tomorrow
be consigned to the subterranean darkness.
Another is to join my flower at sunset,
catapulted beyond, leaving the concrete ribbon,
commemorated by the flashing of red, white, and blue,
A procession of thousands passes by,
hurrying to their suburban fortresses,
I join the procession with them.
The fortress is secure,
those within have clung to their frantic living,
someone is calling on the second line of the other phone.
There are thirty-one messages on the machine.
A young man slips through the cracks,
no one is with him in a dark place,
as he wonders where my flower went.
There is a sterling moon,
pendant above the leaden tempest.
The dogwoods are in bloom,
tomorrow a solar celebration will greet them.
Easter is near.
Many of us come to the mid point of our earthly journey and find ourselves lamenting the passage of time. In "Mid-life" I wonder about the idealism of youth that gave way to the cynicism of middle age and the regrets for things left undone; mountains unclimbed. Yet, there is the miraculous possibility of reclamation of loss opportunity, if we are open to them. "Temporal Reality" was my response to my own personal realization that I have already passed the point of no-return on my earthly travels. I don't have all the answers yet for this.
A major life change experienced by more and more of us is unemployment as a result of down-sizing, out-sourcing, merger mania, corporate reengineering. Whatever we call it, the result is often quite traumatic and frightening. Job security is no more. "Freefall" describes the experience of a friend recently fired from her job without cause. I have passed through unemployment several times and there is a weightless feeling, for certain. But, a cobalt sky overhead.
Several million Americans have been placed in nursing homes, often against their will. A professor friend of mine faced the reality of closing his parent's home and placing them in a facility because of rapidly declining health. In "Nursing Home" there can be hopeful possibilities beyond barren tile floors and semi-private rooms.
While driving from South Carolina to Alabama for Susie's funeral I passed through two severe weather fronts. I had been told just before leaving that there were some uncertainties about my employment. While driving from the funeral home to the home of Susie's parents, it occurred to me that all the beautiful flowers would in three days be wilted and in a landfill. About the same time I encountered a massive multi-car accident with fatalities at rush hour. In "Changes" it occurred to me that Easter was only two weeks away.
Mid-Life
Solar fusion wilting morning dreams,
past memories of future fantasy fade.
Far back in yellowed archives of remembrance,
a wide-eyed champion battled for a better world.
Yet unburdened by the sands of time,
strength of youth carried me upward.
Morning mist watering seeds of knowledge,
I set forth to educate an unknowing world.
Idealism of youth transmuted to adult cynicism,
I struggle to pay the mortgage, alimony, taxes.
Wondering what went wrong where,
heaviness of decades lost presses down.
He will restore the years the locusts have eaten.
Free Fall
Flinging the sterling portal open,
a vast yawning chasm opens before my feet.
Buffeted by stratospheric currents,
my serenity is blasted beyond towers of cumulus.
Memories of terra firma's safety forgotten,
doubt's dagger digs deep into my soul.
Hesitation haunting my hold on sanity,
I step from security into vast vulnerability.
Painful panic powering me earthward,
I place my trust in Another's Work.
Rejuvenating shadow opens above me,
my terminal terror yanked beyond.
Surreal stellar silence enfolds me,
proclaiming myriad possibilities.
An astral pendant I am,
hung from an empyrean diamond.
Weightless, sands of time stand still,
all of life's dreams yet before me.
Be sure to look Up.
Nursing Home
The shadows dance on the walk,
a silent requiem for what once was.
Shuffling forward, to the aseptic unknown,
you leave behind myriad memories.
Four decades of joys, tears, laughs;
sold to the highest bidder.
Supper arrives in a plastic tray,
erasing remembrance of Wedgewood with family.
Leaves falls, exposing the leaden sky,
Autumn has turned to winter.
Is it true, autumn colors really end?
Mercifully, you never did know.
The bitterness of winter has come to you,
wind, uncertainty, the unknown howling.
Christmas comes in winter
Temporal Reality
Wondering what the world was like on VE day,
a long half century in the distant past,
my brother was already making his mark.
While discarding a scientific report, once cutting edge,
the copyright date tells me it is ancient,
being printed seven years after my graduation.
Remembering the shootings at Kent State;
how intense and real that turbulent era seemed,
I realize a quarter century of life has quietly slipped by.
Nearly a third of a century ago,
while I was discovering girls in junior high school,
John Kennedy was blasted beyond to the unknown.
Today satellites travel beyond the planets,
four decades into the space age;
Sputnik wouldn't happen until third grade.
My office has four high speed computers,
I wonder how I ever worked without them.
In college I used a slide rule and pencil.
In the year of my college graduation,
3.5 billion people crowded the earth.
5.3 billion did so several years ago.
When I went to college I was debt free,
the Federal government was debt free.
Today I and it owe nearly five trillion.
I went to the most expensive university in America,
Two thousand a year; tuition, room, food, and a maid.
This year I spent two thousand for a four-day seminar.
A crooning mother brings a daughter to church,
her grandmother born long ago;
more than a decade after I first breathed.
Is this what they call middle age?
Changes
Change, the inevitable seasoning of life,
Today I learn my job may be eliminated.
The cerulean benevolence above
gives way to a leaden tempest.
The state names, the city names;
they are becoming foreign.
My young flower wilts in the torrid heat
of neoplastic frenzy.
There is no one to water her garden.
The botanical delights will in days be
but as solid waste for compost.
The polished mahogany shrine will tomorrow
be consigned to the subterranean darkness.
Another is to join my flower at sunset,
catapulted beyond, leaving the concrete ribbon,
commemorated by the flashing of red, white, and blue,
A procession of thousands passes by,
hurrying to their suburban fortresses,
I join the procession with them.
The fortress is secure,
those within have clung to their frantic living,
someone is calling on the second line of the other phone.
There are thirty-one messages on the machine.
A young man slips through the cracks,
no one is with him in a dark place,
as he wonders where my flower went.
There is a sterling moon,
pendant above the leaden tempest.
The dogwoods are in bloom,
tomorrow a solar celebration will greet them.
Easter is near.
Dimensions of Hope in Modern Life
Modern life is incredibly complex and it has been made more so by the vast availability of instantaneous information on any unsavory deed committed anywhere on earth. This can prove exquisitely stressful and adds to the perception of many that the world is a dangerous place. This has certainly been my own experience.
There may well be fundamental change going on in the world. Some of the results are indeed discomforting. Others quite inspiring. If we are simply able to acknowledge our discomfort with this massive change, perhaps it will be a bit less disquieting. Alone, one might be inclined to doubt his ability to cope.
"Skyscrapers" recounts my reactions to the glass and marble canyons of a northern city. These towers of offices often provide habitation for people working stressful jobs they really don't enjoy. Even in this crystalline metallic landscape one can wonder if a bit of renewal came be obtained from nature, if the windows open.
The tragedy of the Oklahoma City bombings cannot be overstated. This senseless atrocity made the world feel much less safe to me. "The Fed" and "Who Was I?" focus on the reality that the federal government is not a monolithic machine; rather an amalgamation of people with dreams, hopes, and challenges just like those of us that don't work for government.
A few days after the bombings an arsonist burned down several blocks of my town. I saw a towering column of orange hatred spiraling up into the night sky. "Arsoned Dreams" describes the burning of dreams for the gain of insurance fraud. At the same time rose bushes grow rather well in ash.
Current phone technology makes it possible to carry on myriad conversations at once. We can gets calls from cellular phones, digital machines, fax machines, modems, all while in our car even. In "Houseguest" I recall being a guest in the home of a friend at the time of Susie's death and having no conversation with her. In the morning I found her on the phone with two calls lasting forty minutes. Piles of complex text books buried her dining room table. I never did get to speak with her and left through the basement without benefit of breakfast.
"Busyness" continues the same theme. Several rather important friendships I have had with others were lost in their pursuit of busy schedules. Some I have not even had a Christmas card from in years, yet I once was told by several I was the most influential person in their lives.
Contemporary society does have some fine offerings. Most states now operate rather excellent park systems. A Sunday afternoon outing in Jone Gap State Park in South Carolina inspired "Sunday." A tranquil happy collection of families indulged in BBQs and recreation, forgetting the rigors of weekdays.
The film "Beyond Rangoon" enkindled "Student." This compelling film depicted the Burmese student pro-democracy movement in the late 1980s and early 1990s. A compelling episode shows that love can overcome the severest of hate and prejudice. This is perhaps one of the most hopeful things in the human experience to chronicle.
The anguish and lament for the Denaric city of Serajevo continue. One night I awoke at 2 AM with tears and "Besieged" came forth. I have often found the tragedy of this Alpine paradise to be most haunting, on a par with the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger. If we can weep with each other, perhaps we can move beyond war.
Much debates has been generated about the role of TV in the declension of modern American culture; its role in inciting criminal behavior, in eroding the enthusiasm for learning. "TV" is my reaction to what television has done to erode my friendships with others who are addicted to it. On a fine clear day I found the highways deserted and was most curious about this until it occurred to me it was Superbowl Sunday.
One night I was in the local mall returning a CD and found the place rather crowded and filled with nervous energy. Myriad teenagers loitered with no where to go. Going outside, I basked in the radiance of a rather fine harvest moon. "Luminous" presents a way of life that transcends a culture of consumption and idleness.
Life in the fast lane often results in important people being left behind. Wives, sons, daughters often get left behind by a high flyer who is bent on career ascent, accumulation, and thrill. If he is lucky he will see a higher way of life mapped out for him before he crash lands. "High Flyer" shows a way to avoid a hard landing.
Technology has made it possible to automate many tasks once performed by people. While in a gas station I realized it was possible to pay for the gas by putting a plastic debit card in the pump and having no interaction with any people whatever. The last time I bought postage a metallic clerk made the transaction for me. The last time I called directory assistance, I interfaced with voice recognition technology. "Where Are You?" is my bewilderment at what happened to the milkmen, elevator operators, gas attendants, those people who made life much more human and personal.
Skyscrapers
Towers of steel and glass thrust skyward,
piercing the empyrean canopy with iron.
Ferrous talons rooted deep in earth,
crystalline predators snare our Calling.
Faceted skins of glass scales glistening,
they capture astral warmth of newborn day.
Cold-blooded interiors come to life,
satiated by myriad supplicants of success.
Creation making arboreal sacrifice,
myriad memoranda fill fluorescent voids.
Circadian ritual brings pious pilgrims,
seeking places before altars of prosperity.
Priests of commerce, habitating high places,
promise deliverance from a life of mediocrity.
Iridescent exteriors, reflecting life,
create illusions of what can't be.
Do the windows open?
The Fed
The spring freshness of the eastern plains,
giving the weary respite after winter, fills all with joy.
Gentle morning sun washes away the last of morning mist,
its benevolence warming the metropolitan heart.
Easter lily blooms retain their splendor,
filling my labyrinth with fragrant reflection.
Children's voices fill the air with exuberant chatter,
their lunch boxes harboring Easter's multi-hued treasures.
Fate's victims, no longer able to stand alone,
trodden down by the winter of life, journey here.
Still believing in the goodness of humankind,
abandoned mothers come, to find hope.
A seismic intrusion of unbounded hate erupts,
fracturing hope, igniting anguish.
I died for you.
Who Was I?
You lashed out in the blindness of rage,
your hatred driving you to mindless folly.
Who was I that I merited the searing heat of your scorn,
to be blasted beyond the stars by your wrath?
I was an idealistic veterinarian instructing others,
that they might teach you to care for your
animals.
I was your neighbor who processed mountains of paper,
so your paralyzed husband could face
mountainous challenges.
I was a new twenty-two year old school teacher,
each day teaching your children
laughter and wonder.
I was a graduate of the seventh-grade, a janitor,
giving you a clean place to carry
on with your life.
I was a new mother, radiant with joy,
coming to get a social security card for my baby.
I was a new life, just past my first birthday,
filled with dreams, hopes, gleeful expectations.
Who are you?
Arsoned Dreams
Acrid columns of combustion consume darkness,
giving way to torrid firestorms of uncertainty.
Quiet lethargy of sultry southern nights
transforms to morbid celebration of ruin.
Solitary supplication before Hollywood's flickering altars
yields to the shared communion of conflagration.
Oaken dreams feed the multitude's craving,
their lust fueled by the fires of future despair.
Mortared visions of yesteryear's builders,
collapse into incandescent remnants of antiquity.
Incinerated relics smolder for days,
a burnt offering to wanton greed.
Cremated aspirations for a better way
fertilize tomorrow's hopelessness.
With your rapacious inflaming act,
my family's security wafts into blackness.
Deluges of forgiveness douse inner infernos,
giving way to our shared healing of loss.
Roses grow abundantly in ash.
Houseguest
You and I come together to share sorrow,
for the early parting of a friend.
I anticipate the succor of your words.
Your house is opened to me by your son,
he shows me into your world.
You are on the phone, another call is holding.
I look forward to sharing in memories,
of your children's journeys to adulthood.
Academic expectations have left their marks;
Children's art has been pushed aside,
in favor of texts of eschatology and hermeneutics.
I anticipate thoughtful reflection, your attention;
shared commiseration for our shared loss.
You have errands to do, ministry to accomplish.
I anticipate breaking morning bread, sharing a new day,
a difficult day when we will lay to rest our loss.
You are on the phone.
You are on the phone.
You are on the phone.
You are on the phone.
I leave through the basement, unfed.
Busyness
Content in my own way of life,
your possibilities showed me more.
Entranced I was by overtures of friendship,
anticipating our grand shared adventures.
Your ebullient words pledged rewards,
making vulnerability worth many risks.
For one travelling solo in life,
your effervescence promised relief.
As so often happens in frantic busyness,
your attentions were drawn elsewhere.
Hoping it was you ringing my phone,
it was yet another wanting a donation.
I sought you out for communal adventures,
you asked if you could put me on hold.
The sands in the glass are far gone,
our friendship interred beneath.
Drop me a line sometime.
Sunday
Stifling suits and power ties discarded,
politically correct linen dresses abandoned,
we pillage our closets for the good stuff.
With myriad treks engraved in their treads,
memories of high places in their uppers,
we don old Adidas, saved for special occasions.
Favorite T-shirts, emblazoned with medallions,
well faded during past pleasures,
cloak us in expectation of new adventure.
Scampering toddlers squealing in delight,
bounding from rock to rock to rock,
pause breathless in their frolics.
Wandering among the denizens of the sky,
lofty imaginations giving flight to dreams,
we contemplate the bounty of life's riches.
Effervescent mountain streams,
carrying Heaven's manna earthward,
refresh the sheltering arboreal canopy.
Smoky blue-gray tendrils rising,
aromatic enticements beckon us,
promising delectate feasts fit for kings.
Dad, is it time to eat?
Student
In ignorant wisdom, power mongers
cast you out, fearing omnipotence of ideas.
Once contemplating books to learn,
today you peruse terrors of the heart.
In totalitarian fear you lurk in shadows,
nurturing seeds of our future freedom.
In the farthest reaches of sacred hope
live dreams of life beyond repression.
Giving the supreme gift of life,
Your blood fertilizes the earth.
In a distant spring a shoot sprouts,
giving bloom to equity for all people.
Oppression sublimating to compassion,
mortal enemies embrace in hot tears.
You have taught the teacher.
Besieged
With grand anticipation the nations gathered,
myriad hopes crystallizing world community.
We came to you with our Olympian dreams,
seeking to stand tall; contestants in life.
You rose from restful winter slumber,
giving possibility to golden fantasy.
Hand in hand, we walked beneath nocturnal diamonds,
nurturing secret expectations of tomorrow's accolades.
Your hospitality mesmerized the world,
your generosity captivating athletic pilgrims.
You taught us man could rise above himself,
setting aside swords for wreaths of olive.
A decade of numbing winters has passed,
your beauty hidden only in misty-eyed memory.
Aureate fantasy has given way to ferrous reality,
your heart lacerated by iron implements of death.
Olympian hopes have tumbled down your slopes,
landings in the smoldering ashes of your children.
Again, you tremble and cower, oblivious to spring,
your arboreal delights burned to fuel frigid fear.
In the cinders of your Dinaric forests and arenas,
may we find a sprout of new possibility for you, and us.
Serajevo, we weep with you.
TV
Reaching out to a dear soulmate,
far distant, we forge fond friendship.
You, chattering loudly in his world,
drown out communal contemplation of shared journeys.
Delighting in seeing my distant wanderer,
shared secrets soon traverse the miles.
Your entrepreneurial babble deflating my joy,
his attention is drawn to your vain imaginations.
I wonder at the desertion of the streets,
it is a glorious evening, fit for royalty.
Alas, it is Superbowl Sunday;
prismatic flickers shimmering across America.
Where's the remote?
Luminous
Solar radiance has faded to cobalt blue,
star-studded splendor punctuating heaven.
Shimmering evening air cools thermal challenges of day,
we luxuriate in twilight refreshment.
Nocturnal displays fade into sodium haze,
electric suns conceal stellar wonders,
millions of years journeying for our pleasure.
Evening coolness is lost to the masses,
corralled in frenetic interiors of acquisition,
bent on harvesting all terra firma has given.
Heaven is forgotten, earth remembered no more,
we are caught in the heat of purchase.
re-millennial urban wanderers travel in circles,
pounding themselves senseless with infrasonic throbs,
easing the empty pain of the electric night.
You, luminous reminder of other realms,
gleaming orb rising in grandeur,
transform your aureate being to sterling.
Wispy filaments give enchantment to your countenance;
lifting us to High places with angels,
imparting to us the glories of Numinous mystery.
You tell me of One who says:
Call unto me, and I will answer thee,
and shew you great and mighty things,
which you knowest not.
High Flyer
Your crystalline dreams of shared journeys
shattered against my fortress of neglect;
Incandescent heat from my meteoric rise
leaving a contrail of your immolated visions.
Leaving you in the cool valley,
I soared into the stratosphere of success.
The stellar diamond greeting the dawn horizon.
I basked in the wonderment of accomplishment.
Jealous missiles of resentment and envy
forcing me to high-altitude isolation;
Rarified cosmic silence is shattering,
there are none here to share entrancement.
Solar flares ignite, blistering my wings;
the cool safety of troposphere far below.
Thermal blasts of materialism and power
burn uncertainty and fear into my soul.
Incendiary heat of re-entry sears my spirit,
the Foundations of simplicity beyond view.
Terra firma launches itself up at me,
deceiving me with breathless freefall.
Falling violently into edges of night,
His constellations map a better way.
In the nocturnal stillness,
a still small Voice promises a safe landing.
Permission to land?
Where Are You?
You used to ask
"Need the oil checked?"
"Want the windows washed?"
The pump flashes "Insert payment card here."
Where are you?
You used to leave a box of chocolate cherries,
along with the Christmas cards.
I don't know now if my postman is a man.
Where are you?
You used to steal into my house at night,
leaving gleaming glass bottles of ...
white milk, chocolate milk, orange juice.
Now I pass a five under bullet proof glass
for a throw-away jug from a dairy I never heard of.
Where are you?
You used to cheer me as I made the dreaded journey,
up eight floors to the doctor's office.
Now I push the buttons myself,
seeking comfort in the lights over the door.
Where are you?
You used to give me lollipops, hold me on your lap,
easing those dreadful times of vaccination.
I don't even know who my doc is now.
I'm not sure the HMO does either.
Where are you?
Here am I.
There may well be fundamental change going on in the world. Some of the results are indeed discomforting. Others quite inspiring. If we are simply able to acknowledge our discomfort with this massive change, perhaps it will be a bit less disquieting. Alone, one might be inclined to doubt his ability to cope.
"Skyscrapers" recounts my reactions to the glass and marble canyons of a northern city. These towers of offices often provide habitation for people working stressful jobs they really don't enjoy. Even in this crystalline metallic landscape one can wonder if a bit of renewal came be obtained from nature, if the windows open.
The tragedy of the Oklahoma City bombings cannot be overstated. This senseless atrocity made the world feel much less safe to me. "The Fed" and "Who Was I?" focus on the reality that the federal government is not a monolithic machine; rather an amalgamation of people with dreams, hopes, and challenges just like those of us that don't work for government.
A few days after the bombings an arsonist burned down several blocks of my town. I saw a towering column of orange hatred spiraling up into the night sky. "Arsoned Dreams" describes the burning of dreams for the gain of insurance fraud. At the same time rose bushes grow rather well in ash.
Current phone technology makes it possible to carry on myriad conversations at once. We can gets calls from cellular phones, digital machines, fax machines, modems, all while in our car even. In "Houseguest" I recall being a guest in the home of a friend at the time of Susie's death and having no conversation with her. In the morning I found her on the phone with two calls lasting forty minutes. Piles of complex text books buried her dining room table. I never did get to speak with her and left through the basement without benefit of breakfast.
"Busyness" continues the same theme. Several rather important friendships I have had with others were lost in their pursuit of busy schedules. Some I have not even had a Christmas card from in years, yet I once was told by several I was the most influential person in their lives.
Contemporary society does have some fine offerings. Most states now operate rather excellent park systems. A Sunday afternoon outing in Jone Gap State Park in South Carolina inspired "Sunday." A tranquil happy collection of families indulged in BBQs and recreation, forgetting the rigors of weekdays.
The film "Beyond Rangoon" enkindled "Student." This compelling film depicted the Burmese student pro-democracy movement in the late 1980s and early 1990s. A compelling episode shows that love can overcome the severest of hate and prejudice. This is perhaps one of the most hopeful things in the human experience to chronicle.
The anguish and lament for the Denaric city of Serajevo continue. One night I awoke at 2 AM with tears and "Besieged" came forth. I have often found the tragedy of this Alpine paradise to be most haunting, on a par with the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger. If we can weep with each other, perhaps we can move beyond war.
Much debates has been generated about the role of TV in the declension of modern American culture; its role in inciting criminal behavior, in eroding the enthusiasm for learning. "TV" is my reaction to what television has done to erode my friendships with others who are addicted to it. On a fine clear day I found the highways deserted and was most curious about this until it occurred to me it was Superbowl Sunday.
One night I was in the local mall returning a CD and found the place rather crowded and filled with nervous energy. Myriad teenagers loitered with no where to go. Going outside, I basked in the radiance of a rather fine harvest moon. "Luminous" presents a way of life that transcends a culture of consumption and idleness.
Life in the fast lane often results in important people being left behind. Wives, sons, daughters often get left behind by a high flyer who is bent on career ascent, accumulation, and thrill. If he is lucky he will see a higher way of life mapped out for him before he crash lands. "High Flyer" shows a way to avoid a hard landing.
Technology has made it possible to automate many tasks once performed by people. While in a gas station I realized it was possible to pay for the gas by putting a plastic debit card in the pump and having no interaction with any people whatever. The last time I bought postage a metallic clerk made the transaction for me. The last time I called directory assistance, I interfaced with voice recognition technology. "Where Are You?" is my bewilderment at what happened to the milkmen, elevator operators, gas attendants, those people who made life much more human and personal.
Skyscrapers
Towers of steel and glass thrust skyward,
piercing the empyrean canopy with iron.
Ferrous talons rooted deep in earth,
crystalline predators snare our Calling.
Faceted skins of glass scales glistening,
they capture astral warmth of newborn day.
Cold-blooded interiors come to life,
satiated by myriad supplicants of success.
Creation making arboreal sacrifice,
myriad memoranda fill fluorescent voids.
Circadian ritual brings pious pilgrims,
seeking places before altars of prosperity.
Priests of commerce, habitating high places,
promise deliverance from a life of mediocrity.
Iridescent exteriors, reflecting life,
create illusions of what can't be.
Do the windows open?
The Fed
The spring freshness of the eastern plains,
giving the weary respite after winter, fills all with joy.
Gentle morning sun washes away the last of morning mist,
its benevolence warming the metropolitan heart.
Easter lily blooms retain their splendor,
filling my labyrinth with fragrant reflection.
Children's voices fill the air with exuberant chatter,
their lunch boxes harboring Easter's multi-hued treasures.
Fate's victims, no longer able to stand alone,
trodden down by the winter of life, journey here.
Still believing in the goodness of humankind,
abandoned mothers come, to find hope.
A seismic intrusion of unbounded hate erupts,
fracturing hope, igniting anguish.
I died for you.
Who Was I?
You lashed out in the blindness of rage,
your hatred driving you to mindless folly.
Who was I that I merited the searing heat of your scorn,
to be blasted beyond the stars by your wrath?
I was an idealistic veterinarian instructing others,
that they might teach you to care for your
animals.
I was your neighbor who processed mountains of paper,
so your paralyzed husband could face
mountainous challenges.
I was a new twenty-two year old school teacher,
each day teaching your children
laughter and wonder.
I was a graduate of the seventh-grade, a janitor,
giving you a clean place to carry
on with your life.
I was a new mother, radiant with joy,
coming to get a social security card for my baby.
I was a new life, just past my first birthday,
filled with dreams, hopes, gleeful expectations.
Who are you?
Arsoned Dreams
Acrid columns of combustion consume darkness,
giving way to torrid firestorms of uncertainty.
Quiet lethargy of sultry southern nights
transforms to morbid celebration of ruin.
Solitary supplication before Hollywood's flickering altars
yields to the shared communion of conflagration.
Oaken dreams feed the multitude's craving,
their lust fueled by the fires of future despair.
Mortared visions of yesteryear's builders,
collapse into incandescent remnants of antiquity.
Incinerated relics smolder for days,
a burnt offering to wanton greed.
Cremated aspirations for a better way
fertilize tomorrow's hopelessness.
With your rapacious inflaming act,
my family's security wafts into blackness.
Deluges of forgiveness douse inner infernos,
giving way to our shared healing of loss.
Roses grow abundantly in ash.
Houseguest
You and I come together to share sorrow,
for the early parting of a friend.
I anticipate the succor of your words.
Your house is opened to me by your son,
he shows me into your world.
You are on the phone, another call is holding.
I look forward to sharing in memories,
of your children's journeys to adulthood.
Academic expectations have left their marks;
Children's art has been pushed aside,
in favor of texts of eschatology and hermeneutics.
I anticipate thoughtful reflection, your attention;
shared commiseration for our shared loss.
You have errands to do, ministry to accomplish.
I anticipate breaking morning bread, sharing a new day,
a difficult day when we will lay to rest our loss.
You are on the phone.
You are on the phone.
You are on the phone.
You are on the phone.
I leave through the basement, unfed.
Busyness
Content in my own way of life,
your possibilities showed me more.
Entranced I was by overtures of friendship,
anticipating our grand shared adventures.
Your ebullient words pledged rewards,
making vulnerability worth many risks.
For one travelling solo in life,
your effervescence promised relief.
As so often happens in frantic busyness,
your attentions were drawn elsewhere.
Hoping it was you ringing my phone,
it was yet another wanting a donation.
I sought you out for communal adventures,
you asked if you could put me on hold.
The sands in the glass are far gone,
our friendship interred beneath.
Drop me a line sometime.
Sunday
Stifling suits and power ties discarded,
politically correct linen dresses abandoned,
we pillage our closets for the good stuff.
With myriad treks engraved in their treads,
memories of high places in their uppers,
we don old Adidas, saved for special occasions.
Favorite T-shirts, emblazoned with medallions,
well faded during past pleasures,
cloak us in expectation of new adventure.
Scampering toddlers squealing in delight,
bounding from rock to rock to rock,
pause breathless in their frolics.
Wandering among the denizens of the sky,
lofty imaginations giving flight to dreams,
we contemplate the bounty of life's riches.
Effervescent mountain streams,
carrying Heaven's manna earthward,
refresh the sheltering arboreal canopy.
Smoky blue-gray tendrils rising,
aromatic enticements beckon us,
promising delectate feasts fit for kings.
Dad, is it time to eat?
Student
In ignorant wisdom, power mongers
cast you out, fearing omnipotence of ideas.
Once contemplating books to learn,
today you peruse terrors of the heart.
In totalitarian fear you lurk in shadows,
nurturing seeds of our future freedom.
In the farthest reaches of sacred hope
live dreams of life beyond repression.
Giving the supreme gift of life,
Your blood fertilizes the earth.
In a distant spring a shoot sprouts,
giving bloom to equity for all people.
Oppression sublimating to compassion,
mortal enemies embrace in hot tears.
You have taught the teacher.
Besieged
With grand anticipation the nations gathered,
myriad hopes crystallizing world community.
We came to you with our Olympian dreams,
seeking to stand tall; contestants in life.
You rose from restful winter slumber,
giving possibility to golden fantasy.
Hand in hand, we walked beneath nocturnal diamonds,
nurturing secret expectations of tomorrow's accolades.
Your hospitality mesmerized the world,
your generosity captivating athletic pilgrims.
You taught us man could rise above himself,
setting aside swords for wreaths of olive.
A decade of numbing winters has passed,
your beauty hidden only in misty-eyed memory.
Aureate fantasy has given way to ferrous reality,
your heart lacerated by iron implements of death.
Olympian hopes have tumbled down your slopes,
landings in the smoldering ashes of your children.
Again, you tremble and cower, oblivious to spring,
your arboreal delights burned to fuel frigid fear.
In the cinders of your Dinaric forests and arenas,
may we find a sprout of new possibility for you, and us.
Serajevo, we weep with you.
TV
Reaching out to a dear soulmate,
far distant, we forge fond friendship.
You, chattering loudly in his world,
drown out communal contemplation of shared journeys.
Delighting in seeing my distant wanderer,
shared secrets soon traverse the miles.
Your entrepreneurial babble deflating my joy,
his attention is drawn to your vain imaginations.
I wonder at the desertion of the streets,
it is a glorious evening, fit for royalty.
Alas, it is Superbowl Sunday;
prismatic flickers shimmering across America.
Where's the remote?
Luminous
Solar radiance has faded to cobalt blue,
star-studded splendor punctuating heaven.
Shimmering evening air cools thermal challenges of day,
we luxuriate in twilight refreshment.
Nocturnal displays fade into sodium haze,
electric suns conceal stellar wonders,
millions of years journeying for our pleasure.
Evening coolness is lost to the masses,
corralled in frenetic interiors of acquisition,
bent on harvesting all terra firma has given.
Heaven is forgotten, earth remembered no more,
we are caught in the heat of purchase.
re-millennial urban wanderers travel in circles,
pounding themselves senseless with infrasonic throbs,
easing the empty pain of the electric night.
You, luminous reminder of other realms,
gleaming orb rising in grandeur,
transform your aureate being to sterling.
Wispy filaments give enchantment to your countenance;
lifting us to High places with angels,
imparting to us the glories of Numinous mystery.
You tell me of One who says:
Call unto me, and I will answer thee,
and shew you great and mighty things,
which you knowest not.
High Flyer
Your crystalline dreams of shared journeys
shattered against my fortress of neglect;
Incandescent heat from my meteoric rise
leaving a contrail of your immolated visions.
Leaving you in the cool valley,
I soared into the stratosphere of success.
The stellar diamond greeting the dawn horizon.
I basked in the wonderment of accomplishment.
Jealous missiles of resentment and envy
forcing me to high-altitude isolation;
Rarified cosmic silence is shattering,
there are none here to share entrancement.
Solar flares ignite, blistering my wings;
the cool safety of troposphere far below.
Thermal blasts of materialism and power
burn uncertainty and fear into my soul.
Incendiary heat of re-entry sears my spirit,
the Foundations of simplicity beyond view.
Terra firma launches itself up at me,
deceiving me with breathless freefall.
Falling violently into edges of night,
His constellations map a better way.
In the nocturnal stillness,
a still small Voice promises a safe landing.
Permission to land?
Where Are You?
You used to ask
"Need the oil checked?"
"Want the windows washed?"
The pump flashes "Insert payment card here."
Where are you?
You used to leave a box of chocolate cherries,
along with the Christmas cards.
I don't know now if my postman is a man.
Where are you?
You used to steal into my house at night,
leaving gleaming glass bottles of ...
white milk, chocolate milk, orange juice.
Now I pass a five under bullet proof glass
for a throw-away jug from a dairy I never heard of.
Where are you?
You used to cheer me as I made the dreaded journey,
up eight floors to the doctor's office.
Now I push the buttons myself,
seeking comfort in the lights over the door.
Where are you?
You used to give me lollipops, hold me on your lap,
easing those dreadful times of vaccination.
I don't even know who my doc is now.
I'm not sure the HMO does either.
Where are you?
Here am I.
Dimensions of Peace and Trust
As we face the challenges of life, the vagaries of friendship, the pain and isolation of illness and death, the slippage of time, we often find trust and peace more and more important in daily living. Lessons of trust and peace come in some most unusual ways.
While in the Canadian Rockies a travelling companion and I hired horses and a guide to ascend to the glacier fed lakes above tree line. I quickly learned that the world seems very different from the back of a horse skittering along loose shale on a cliff face. "Struggle" chronicles my realization of this difference and the challenge of giving up control. Yet, there was a fine view on top.
During a Sunday afternoon hike (the same ominous Sunday that yielded "Lament") in one of the state parks, a large blue and bronze butterfly landed on my hand and flexed its wings for some ninety seconds. Myriad children about me were entranced by this, as was I. "Trust" recounts this exquisite experience. Taking risk to trust can produce profound benefits.
In the spring I went to a community blood donation center to give blood. While there I observed a seventeen-year old girl giving moral support to an eighteen-year old boy who was making his first blood donation. While he conversed with the nurse from the cot next to mine I learned these two not-quite adults were planning marriage soon. The sense of fragility, idealism, and innocence in their persona compelled "Innocence."
"Solar Hope" offers a different view of the warming peace that is available to us in our cold nights. In darkness many splendors can be seen once we get used to the blackness.
"Repose" documents an absolutely splendid evening walk during the summer with a kaleidoscopic sky producing myriad magical images. I had a profound sense of contentment during this time as I watched lightning give a brilliant lavender glow to the interior of a towering thunderhead in the distance.
Recently I was charged with telling a dear friend of the death of someone important in her life. About an hour's time elapsed before I was able to inflict her with this harsh news. During that hour I followed her in a second car on the interstate and pondered the sense of knowing important things in Jan's future she had yet to learn of. In the mean time she continued in a happy state of mind. "Ignorance" is a reminder that it is not always good to know all the details of the future. It has the potential for eroding our present tranquility. My breaking of the news certainly did shatter my friend's tranquility.
At sunset in British Columbia I was driving through a wine making region and happened to see a man and woman walking hand-in-hand in a field at sunset, obviously enjoying their time. In "Reflections" the inner warmth of spirit made them unaware of the coolness of lowering night.
I was recently asked to make some comments about "Thanksgiving". It occurred to me that we find it easy to be thankful for good things but not for the likes of cancer, unemployment, and death. It seems that true thanksgiving includes contentment and acceptance in the cold winters of life.
Standing on a fire tower on top of Little Scaly Mountain at 3 AM I was quite taken with the view of the moon dropping over the far mountains. As the moon disappeared, "Darkness" yielded a fine cosmic display of the heavens.
Struggle
Putting my feet in Your stirrups,
I relinquish firm faith in myself.
Your dependability unknown to me,
I yield closely coveted control.
Our alpine journey cloaked in mystery,
blissful ignorance masks corporal risk.
Burdened with gravity's persistent pull,
we traverse transcendent towers of granite.
Mere steps from the foreboding abyss,
I fight down urges to take the reins.
Inner urges to not believe in You
are as compelling as the chasm is deep.
Fighting fulminant fear of letting go,
we ascend beyond leaden clouds of doubt.
In my own strength I wandered below,
shivering in gray rains of fearfulness.
Trusting in you, not knowing you,
you carry me to grand cerulean vistas.
With You, I can do all things.
Trust
Iridescent blues and bronzes glowing,
your royal garments proclaim grand majesty.
In our realm kings stay in castles,
in Yours court is held in heaven.
Descending from your airborne Kingdom,
Hope entered my earthbound realm.
Awed by Your innocence I held out my hand.
Taking ultimate risk, You alighted.
I, entranced by Your fragile beauty,
held my breath, lest You take flight.
Undaunted by my ability to crush Your spirit,
You let me touch radiance from Above.
Another One once entered here and died.
Innocence
Your adolescent lives, new blooms of hope,
bask in grand expectations of distant futures.
Dreamy-eyed, looking into each other's souls,
you see the world as a playground in the sun.
Secretly, suspecting there must be clouds,
today there is but a sunny dance of life.
Expecting nuptial bells to favor fantasy,
they instead bring dirty diapers, debts, dishes.
Catapulted from unknowing adolescence,
adulthood offers you 9 to 5 and the IRS.
Out here in the future there is much work,
protecting your youthful dreams from reality.
I wish you well, the world needs dreamers.
Repose
Cool cobalt of evening extinguishes
raging fires within my inflamed soul.
Solar fires quenched in nocturnal coolness,
my soul basks in gentle Winds of wonder.
Cumulus sentinels scud across night;
waltzing among the empyrean diamonds.
Darkness sparkling with winged iridescence,
fireflies choreograph luminous dances of life.
Rising with quiet majesty beyond the Eastern Gate,
Earth's Guardian robes me in finest platinum.
Quiet wisps of tranquility dwelling on evening breeze,
I stand open-mouthed in silent awe.
I am at peace.
Ignorance
Smiling, laughing into unlived eras,
your optimism thrives on the unknown.
Placid waters before your bow,
your nescience nurtures Numinous Mercy.
Your future breaking through to my present,
I alone fear turbulence cast before you.
An intermediary in time confronting me,
makes me harbinger of impending anguish.
Cosmic wonders eclipsed by tempest,
circadian darkness mocks imminent pain.
As custodian of somber knowledge,
I grieve for your trials, yet endured.
I bless you with innocence a bit longer,
for sufficient are the cares of today.
Reflection
Circadian frenzy subsiding with dusk,
sunset gilds life with aureate delight.
Vermillion massifs of granite ascend,
sheltering your hopes from nocturnal cold.
Beneath deepening empyrean cobalt,
you walk hand in hand, musing.
Gentle breezes refreshing your souls,
shared affections bind your destinies.
Inner Radiance warming your hearts,
the crystalline chill of spirit melts.
Supersonic ebony of night overtaking you,
darkness illuminates memories with stars.
Dreams come in the deep shadows of life.
Solar Hope
Eastern sky is shrouded in cobalt,
nailed to the firmament with diamonds.
Western sky transmutes from hot fire,
giving way to cool cerulean.
Nightfall overtakes us at sonic speed,
pushing another day beyond the horizon.
In eclipsing darkness hope arises;
His crimson contrail dividing the heaven.
The Star of old led the way,
guiding the expectant through night.
In your twilight, follow the Son.
Thanksgiving
Autumnal brilliance illuminates being,
spectral delights filling our days.
Linking, loving, laughing, living,
we smile. Shadows have no place here.
Radiant renewal rekindles community;
jet wonders traversing the abyss between us.
Indulging remembrances of goodness past,
savory aromas of delight swarm sentience.
Misty-eyed memories melding minds,
we gather gratefully, graciously.
Emerald and cerulean acquiesce to
the crystalline monochromes of winter.
In the quiet Rest of winter,
we rebuild for the eternal Spring ahead.
Please pass the turkey.
Darkness
We wander through Darkness,
Brilliance driven away by shadow.
Electric suns drive away night,
yet the Darkness remains.
The universe is ...
to us, but a memory
in a sodium-fogged haze of orange.
On top of the world we are,
Haunting in its lunar beauty.
Solar fusion on the far side,
a sterling Gibbous pendant on this side.
It slips away, beyond the mountains,
Suddenly we see.
Darkness illuminates galactic fires,
Star-studded fury making no shadow.
A fellow traveller opens her eyes,
she stumbles no more.
The Way is clear,
we hold hands going down.
While in the Canadian Rockies a travelling companion and I hired horses and a guide to ascend to the glacier fed lakes above tree line. I quickly learned that the world seems very different from the back of a horse skittering along loose shale on a cliff face. "Struggle" chronicles my realization of this difference and the challenge of giving up control. Yet, there was a fine view on top.
During a Sunday afternoon hike (the same ominous Sunday that yielded "Lament") in one of the state parks, a large blue and bronze butterfly landed on my hand and flexed its wings for some ninety seconds. Myriad children about me were entranced by this, as was I. "Trust" recounts this exquisite experience. Taking risk to trust can produce profound benefits.
In the spring I went to a community blood donation center to give blood. While there I observed a seventeen-year old girl giving moral support to an eighteen-year old boy who was making his first blood donation. While he conversed with the nurse from the cot next to mine I learned these two not-quite adults were planning marriage soon. The sense of fragility, idealism, and innocence in their persona compelled "Innocence."
"Solar Hope" offers a different view of the warming peace that is available to us in our cold nights. In darkness many splendors can be seen once we get used to the blackness.
"Repose" documents an absolutely splendid evening walk during the summer with a kaleidoscopic sky producing myriad magical images. I had a profound sense of contentment during this time as I watched lightning give a brilliant lavender glow to the interior of a towering thunderhead in the distance.
Recently I was charged with telling a dear friend of the death of someone important in her life. About an hour's time elapsed before I was able to inflict her with this harsh news. During that hour I followed her in a second car on the interstate and pondered the sense of knowing important things in Jan's future she had yet to learn of. In the mean time she continued in a happy state of mind. "Ignorance" is a reminder that it is not always good to know all the details of the future. It has the potential for eroding our present tranquility. My breaking of the news certainly did shatter my friend's tranquility.
At sunset in British Columbia I was driving through a wine making region and happened to see a man and woman walking hand-in-hand in a field at sunset, obviously enjoying their time. In "Reflections" the inner warmth of spirit made them unaware of the coolness of lowering night.
I was recently asked to make some comments about "Thanksgiving". It occurred to me that we find it easy to be thankful for good things but not for the likes of cancer, unemployment, and death. It seems that true thanksgiving includes contentment and acceptance in the cold winters of life.
Standing on a fire tower on top of Little Scaly Mountain at 3 AM I was quite taken with the view of the moon dropping over the far mountains. As the moon disappeared, "Darkness" yielded a fine cosmic display of the heavens.
Struggle
Putting my feet in Your stirrups,
I relinquish firm faith in myself.
Your dependability unknown to me,
I yield closely coveted control.
Our alpine journey cloaked in mystery,
blissful ignorance masks corporal risk.
Burdened with gravity's persistent pull,
we traverse transcendent towers of granite.
Mere steps from the foreboding abyss,
I fight down urges to take the reins.
Inner urges to not believe in You
are as compelling as the chasm is deep.
Fighting fulminant fear of letting go,
we ascend beyond leaden clouds of doubt.
In my own strength I wandered below,
shivering in gray rains of fearfulness.
Trusting in you, not knowing you,
you carry me to grand cerulean vistas.
With You, I can do all things.
Trust
Iridescent blues and bronzes glowing,
your royal garments proclaim grand majesty.
In our realm kings stay in castles,
in Yours court is held in heaven.
Descending from your airborne Kingdom,
Hope entered my earthbound realm.
Awed by Your innocence I held out my hand.
Taking ultimate risk, You alighted.
I, entranced by Your fragile beauty,
held my breath, lest You take flight.
Undaunted by my ability to crush Your spirit,
You let me touch radiance from Above.
Another One once entered here and died.
Innocence
Your adolescent lives, new blooms of hope,
bask in grand expectations of distant futures.
Dreamy-eyed, looking into each other's souls,
you see the world as a playground in the sun.
Secretly, suspecting there must be clouds,
today there is but a sunny dance of life.
Expecting nuptial bells to favor fantasy,
they instead bring dirty diapers, debts, dishes.
Catapulted from unknowing adolescence,
adulthood offers you 9 to 5 and the IRS.
Out here in the future there is much work,
protecting your youthful dreams from reality.
I wish you well, the world needs dreamers.
Repose
Cool cobalt of evening extinguishes
raging fires within my inflamed soul.
Solar fires quenched in nocturnal coolness,
my soul basks in gentle Winds of wonder.
Cumulus sentinels scud across night;
waltzing among the empyrean diamonds.
Darkness sparkling with winged iridescence,
fireflies choreograph luminous dances of life.
Rising with quiet majesty beyond the Eastern Gate,
Earth's Guardian robes me in finest platinum.
Quiet wisps of tranquility dwelling on evening breeze,
I stand open-mouthed in silent awe.
I am at peace.
Ignorance
Smiling, laughing into unlived eras,
your optimism thrives on the unknown.
Placid waters before your bow,
your nescience nurtures Numinous Mercy.
Your future breaking through to my present,
I alone fear turbulence cast before you.
An intermediary in time confronting me,
makes me harbinger of impending anguish.
Cosmic wonders eclipsed by tempest,
circadian darkness mocks imminent pain.
As custodian of somber knowledge,
I grieve for your trials, yet endured.
I bless you with innocence a bit longer,
for sufficient are the cares of today.
Reflection
Circadian frenzy subsiding with dusk,
sunset gilds life with aureate delight.
Vermillion massifs of granite ascend,
sheltering your hopes from nocturnal cold.
Beneath deepening empyrean cobalt,
you walk hand in hand, musing.
Gentle breezes refreshing your souls,
shared affections bind your destinies.
Inner Radiance warming your hearts,
the crystalline chill of spirit melts.
Supersonic ebony of night overtaking you,
darkness illuminates memories with stars.
Dreams come in the deep shadows of life.
Solar Hope
Eastern sky is shrouded in cobalt,
nailed to the firmament with diamonds.
Western sky transmutes from hot fire,
giving way to cool cerulean.
Nightfall overtakes us at sonic speed,
pushing another day beyond the horizon.
In eclipsing darkness hope arises;
His crimson contrail dividing the heaven.
The Star of old led the way,
guiding the expectant through night.
In your twilight, follow the Son.
Thanksgiving
Autumnal brilliance illuminates being,
spectral delights filling our days.
Linking, loving, laughing, living,
we smile. Shadows have no place here.
Radiant renewal rekindles community;
jet wonders traversing the abyss between us.
Indulging remembrances of goodness past,
savory aromas of delight swarm sentience.
Misty-eyed memories melding minds,
we gather gratefully, graciously.
Emerald and cerulean acquiesce to
the crystalline monochromes of winter.
In the quiet Rest of winter,
we rebuild for the eternal Spring ahead.
Please pass the turkey.
Darkness
We wander through Darkness,
Brilliance driven away by shadow.
Electric suns drive away night,
yet the Darkness remains.
The universe is ...
to us, but a memory
in a sodium-fogged haze of orange.
On top of the world we are,
Haunting in its lunar beauty.
Solar fusion on the far side,
a sterling Gibbous pendant on this side.
It slips away, beyond the mountains,
Suddenly we see.
Darkness illuminates galactic fires,
Star-studded fury making no shadow.
A fellow traveller opens her eyes,
she stumbles no more.
The Way is clear,
we hold hands going down.
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