Crawling
I am feeling my way
blind in more than eyes
longing to soar
but afraid of falling
or maybe not getting off the ground at all
so I crawl, inching forward
eyes closed
and maybe my heart too.
When I quiet all the noise
I hear your voice
calling my name
and my heart remembers you
and leaps forward
to meet you again
still, my flesh holds me back
my mind pleads for caution
Help me Lord
cast aside my restraints
that I might fly
in Your awesome wonder.
Cicada
Seventeen years buried
cicadas dream of flying
what a splendid year!
Do No Harm
In this poem I played with the idea of several different “voices” as well as what I hope people understand is irony.
Do No Harm
First do no harm.
Stomp down
those who disagree,
who disbelieve.
If they cannot see
your right from their wrong,
cast them out,
like chaff from
your pure wheat.
Their evil questions raise demons of doubt,
doubts and specters of fear.
What is behind the curtain?
Do onto others
what you'd have done
unto you.
Hold strong
to your god-given truth.
If you say it
loud enough,
if you close your eyes,
and recite your prayers
at a shout,
you’ll drown out their cries,
you won't see their wounds.
Truly I tell you,
whatever you did for
--or to--
one of the least of these
brothers and sisters of mine,
Could it be,
your secret fear,
a man pulling wires?
Or maybe no one at all,
a captainless ship,
a clock wound up and ticking?
you did for
--or to--
me.
Or is the real nightmare
coming face-to-face
with the wizard Himself,
the Great and Powerful,
the Mighty and Merciful?
And finding He is
so much more than you
can ever believe,
could ever conceive?
Then do no harm.
Winter Exorcism
Those early signs of Spring are so welcomed and cherished despite the crazy business of this time of year. Often I agonize over poems, but this one just slipped out. Gotta love it when that happens.
The owl out back is
asking questions again,
and I lie here hoping
to hear the answers
--or maybe just to
understand the questions.
Life goes by so fast
I’m moving clocks
forward, backward, and
forward again,
losing and gaining hours
I didn’t know I had
--or that I have already spent
ten times over,
like my Christmas money
or my summer vacation.
The rain brought the
mist rising off the snow
today like it was exorcising
the spirit of winter,
what with the crocuses
delicately craning
their necks above the soil
to watch while I cheer.
Spring is coming.
Brother in Arms
I sat down to write this In celebration of my brother’s birthday–but it didn’t go exactly where I expected it to go. Such is the way of writing….
Brother in arms he was
two years younger
but alike as two
blonde-haired, blue-eyed
peas in a pod.
Together we
terrorized the neighborhood with pea-shooters
and ding-dong-ditch-it,
wandered the woods
impersonating book characters
--Henry Ware and Silent Tom--
building forts during the summer
and burrowing through snowbanks
in the Michigan winters.
On other days we christened ourselves Scott and Greg,
smoked cigarette butts found on the street
(once was all it took to kill that habit),
ate snot berries plucked off yew bushes
(thankfully not the seed later found to be poisonous),
and attempted to create the world's largest ball of gum
--not all the additions chewed by us.
Brother in arms he was
but not me
"You're a girl"
a neighborhood kid pointed out
one hot shirtless summer day
when we were putting baby snapping turtles
through the races in the front yard.
Such a small change
--shirts and skins--
but then came middle school
with new friends, boyfriends and girlfriends
and though still blonde and blue-eyed,
we were no longer peas in a pod.
Brother in arms he was
but we fought different wars
in high school and college
dragons, secrets and skirmishes
closeness becoming competition
battles over the cat
ending at the point of a knitting needle
until time, distance
and busy schedules
saw the brotherhood disbanded
save for occasional reunions
where news of accomplishments
--battles fought and won--
bring respect and admiration
and a wistful longing
to go back to my childhood days
where I parted ways with
my brother in arms
and travel a different path
together.
This poem isn’t finished–time got away from me today–but I had fun playing with the senses.
If only I had known
The weight of silence
hangs from my shoulders
like the wet wool coat
I wore that
dark November day
You stood next to me
Tight lipped
Droplets of rain
Jeweling your hair
The ground gaped open
sodden dark earth
bleeding into pale grass
while pouring rain
drummed a mournful tune
on hollow wood
If only I had known
The taste of regret
sours my mouth
like the black coffee
I drank from
a flimsy paper cup
In the hospital
You slept buried
Under mounds
of sterile blankets
hair winging across pillow
The curtains hung open
White moonlight
Shining into dark room
while monitors
beeped the sad echo
of a broken heart.
If only I had known
The smell of missed opportunities