Key drops
Ivory quivers
A never ending
Hammer gongs
At my vocal
Chords, leaving
Me defenseless
And wondering.
A gong
Again.
An eerie
Wavering of
Sorts,
A shrill and
Inescapable
Note of
Loneliness
But sweetness
Memories of
Laughter
And tears
Of beginners
And winners
And champions
And all that goes in
Between.
Many times I’ve been told
To love one another
But it just doesn’t work
Though I do try harder.
But have you ever thought
Of something quite diff’rent
It wastes no energy
That just gets spent and spent
“Surrender to My love.”
He once said to me.
“You just can’t love others
Without first being loved.”
There was black.
And there was white.
In the silence of the morning mist,
a golden halo frames a pale face,
set and stern,
stiff above a coal-black gown that
brushes against the shiny marble
in the dewy grass.
Numb,
she reads the words,
finely chiseled
into rocky gray…
new and
dead.
A tear splashes on
the cold
gravestone.
Another day
In anonymity,
Feels like the hum
Of an air conditioner
In the pit of my
Stomach this silence
Of no one asking me
One question
She looks at me,
Then looks away
Oh, there’s another
Person in this room.
This is no surprise.
She returns to her
Work, then whispers
To a friend.
Hums of tangling
Tongues and giggles
Against teeth
Is immense material
For the mind to wonder,
“Are they talking about
Me?”
It’s dark, and
The moon is gone
But pitch black
Lends light to the stars
Just like wind
Makes trees dance
We wouldn’t love warmth
If it was never cold
We’d never be brave
If we didn’t have fears
And we’d never love
If we weren’t scared of being alone
It’s peaceful out
And gentle wind
Whispers love into my soul
It’s quiet here
And rest I’ve found
Your sunshine careful in its glow
And standing here
I look around
I see my raindrops falling down
As mist rises up
To meet the rays
And lend its nurturing spirit there
So flowers bloom
And buds break forth
In graceful beauty all around
While clouds appear
And lend their shade
From overwhelming bursts of joy
And in this space
Of growth and peace
When it was finally time to board, we found ourselves on a small plane, much like the one we’d taken from Springfield to Chicago—only this one was emblazoned with a shamrock and the airline name Aer Lingus. Upon boarding the captain announced his name as Seamus O’Connor.
Well. That turned very Irish very quickly.
Another takeoff, more flying. By now I was in some kind of trance or limbo. This was my lot now, to be forever stuck in transit, always hopping from one airport to another amid days and nights that didn’t match my body’s internal clock. I was so tired…so tired.
We are a people of
A strange and wondrous kind.
A similar group of folks
You’ll never, ever find.
We lived in a valley
Of beauty and pleasure.
There was great peace and joy
Upon all who lived there.
The lush land was more fine
Than any ever seen;
The waters laughed and played
In that valley of green.
Our people worked and lived
In our homely valley,
‘Round a lake of water
And its one, ancient tree.
We stand for justice
A thousand voices crying out
In
The night
Praying to God to lend sight
But even a thousand voices sound
Like a whisper
Echoing in the dark
Yet whispers are still spoken
And speech is heard
So just as one star
Penetrates the dark
Our shouted whispers will overtake
Silence
And the sun will break through
To consummate the day
Doing away with night
Once
And for all
Father, gracious Father,
I seek your face.
Why do you hide when I need you most?
My soul yearns for you with the passion of a thousand tears;
yet the fears that mar your handiwork
are years of pain and bitterness that I cannot undo.