the path narrows

aspens maples dying in a blaze of colour

the air biting through my windbreaker

early nights serenaded by falling rain

past dusky sunsets until misty mornings

faces turned upward to the sunlight

elusive and gentle through the clouds

as leaves fly before temperamental winds

i stumble down the path each solitary day

as sunbreaks follow chilly nights again

each day losing the battle against the dark

the window of daylight narrowing

as i smell the acrid scent of death

but around the way a sight appears

autumn crocus in lavender and white

a carpet of colour in the brownscape

laughing in life in the face of decay

and hope wells up in the straitness

though my limbs be weighed down

though the mist clouds my eyes

i will dance again in the dawning

when the narrow path ends

when it rains

i'm not ready this year for the silver drops

caught between a summer to forget and

falling into a complicated tomorrow

all the dying that wells up like puddles

between the muddy tracks of life lived

without enough jars to hold the dreams

it's pouring down whatever i think so i

simply listen to the splash as shards

today's arrows attacking what was

screaming what is rather than could be

i pull the covers up almost over my head

is this crazy world really what has come

does a graceful way to tap out remain

or must i find a way to dig in damp soil

take the present tense and make it new

no reserves no retreats no regrets

a new level of living beyond skin-deep

how it tears the blood to find the way

each wet splash reminds me that it comes

watering the ground bringing change

death rearranges in the dark but life will come

if i can find the hope to not remain alone

feverish

everything is too bright and loud

as i wrap my shawl closer and shiver

sweat pours down my side

in my brain it feels like fireworks

small blood vessels snapping in defeat

as the virus plows through my body

leaving destruction in its wake

i close my eyes and embrace oblivion

the only place i can escape the scourge

temporarily the day reminds me

as i wake to the energy bank depleted

trapped in skin tingling at the air

forcing myself to eat, stay awake

until i can find the dark quiet again

hindsight

at just this moment a light comes at once 

bursting and soft from the corner of my eye 

obstructing my view and between yesterday 

and always i can see right now with clarity 

beyond tomorrow with all the what ifs and 

maybes floating down like the house of cards 

they are as in wonder i glimpse what lay down 

the fork in the road knowing the dark thorns of 

heartache and loss grew there as sure as if 

i had walked it though i chose the other way 

that i thought might be forsaken and at this 

same moment i find it was actually paved 

with roses and i find gratitude arising for 

the wounds i did receive that brought growth 

and no regrets and while i miss some of the 

yesterdays i know always is close and i wrap 

right now around me as i lift my hands to the light

June Gloom

the longest day and a year half over

a chill down my spine

like the echo of December wind

as hopes become dreams

help my unbelief

the wet blanket of marine air

dampening activity

shutting summer down

so many wishes blown out in joy

grumbling gratitude

rose petals and cottonwood down

a carpet of dying comfort

plentiful food tipping the scale

as guilt rides in on the insulin rush

my thoughts multiply

July crashes in with pyrotechnics

the beginning of the end in denial

distracted by a kaleidoscope of colour

until the gloom of June fades

like a cloud of witnesses

gazing into a blue sky of forgetfulness 

the light intoxicates with clarity

an inexorable change like the grim reaper

rides on the smell of woodsmoke

remember me

ningún espacio

entre tu y yo no hay nada

suspirar espirar motas de piel muerta

pero tengo dificultades de cruzar

si pudieras ver a través de mi cara

con todo el agua bajo el puente

por un momento cerrar los ojos

confíame

creer que podemos tocar los dedos

sin plexiglás a bloquear el paso

dejar todos los armas de discordia grande

cuidadosamente construido

encontrar harmonia y amor

donde no hay ningún pared

canta

a veces hay algo en ti y pienso

que veo esperanza en tu alma

quieres también silenciar las mentiras

destruir las fronteras con espinos

entrar en mi mundo como yo

ando con gracia en tuyo

cree

a great divide

between you and me there is nothing

inhaled exhaled gases dead skin

yet i struggle to bridge the divide

if you could but see past my face

with all the water under the bridge

for a moment close your eyes

hope

believe that we can touch fingers

with no plexiglass to bar the way

lay down all the carefully fashioned

weapons of mass discord

find instead harmony and love

where no walls divide us

sing

sometimes it flickers in you

behind your eyes i glimpse

you too long to stop the lies

deconstruct the barbed borders

step into my world as i

walk gracefully in yours

believe

relentless

I sat in a field and gazed at the sky

watching two birds fly way up high

the small bird dove again and again

fighting a battle he could not win

the hawk barely flinched and soared

the little one’s cries he clearly ignored

I marvelled at the relentless attack

as David flew at Goliath’s back

what desperation could there be

to make him try endlessly

with courage beyond his small size

he rent the heavens with his tries

did somewhere far below the blue

lie a nest with eggs of rosy hue

was this a fight of life or death

protecting those without a breath

risking all against a foe

with every ounce to make him go

while hidden in their little nest

the unborn chicks stayed at rest

just before his strength gave way

two starlings came to join the fray

then for a moment David was gone

somewhere to rest but not for long

with fresh zeal he fought once more

as Goliath continued to soar

sin frontera

brick by translucent brick i've carefully

constructed this house of cards to bar

the way from all the harms and hurts

keeping at bay all the things that go bump

in the lonely dark night and i'm safe

in my impregnable fortress of glass

with all the locks facing out but no keys

if you cannot come in you cannot win

i cannot be persuaded to change 

my borders keep out the things i fear

and so i'm serene in here immune to all

no one can touch me and i quiver yet

a shaft of sunlight illuminates the cell

what cannot come in cannot hold me

without risk i am empty of reward

the hiker's blessing

may you find a trail where only briars were before

may it lead you down a hill through tall trees

may the trees have sun-dappled leaves of golden green

may a bend in the path bring you to a stream

may the stream sing joyful songs over large rocks

may you rest awhile in peace drinking in the scene

may you feel your sore muscles as you rise to walk

may strength bind up your limbs and give you a second wind 

may you climb up higher than the leafy trees where pines grow

may your steps take you past the strong sentinels still higher

may the view take your breath away as you survey peaks

may each peak be kissed with snow as it rises from green slopes

may the breath fill your lungs until they burst with life

may the wind lift your arms as if you could take wings and fly

may the winding trail lead slowly home to a warm shower

may sleep wrap you in a refreshing embrace until dawn

may another day you wake to find a new trail again

against

the edge of my island is always in view

as billows of sea waves roll

and though i am sure of how it's secure

the pounding does take its toll

i've built up my stand with a few sturdy bricks

i sit here in certainty

watching the rest buffet forward and aft

alone it sometimes must be

the thunderous roar of prevailing winds

cannot ever knock me down

though ship after ship sinks right to the depths

i'm safe on the high ground

ironic it is on my sandy shore

that more don't join me here

preferring instead to be tossed all about

while i'm without any fear

no flags fly above the soft golden sands

i'm rather incognito

keeping still as they bellow to another

it's better they don't know

no shame in my snug little peaceful hut

but the storm-tossed can't think straight

seeing just the sea where the next wave may be 

everything else becomes bait

my heart takes courage as my i glimpse in the east 

others who are standing true

i'm not alone in this turbulent night

he has preserved a few

someone once wisely said to pick battles

with kids who are immature

i smile and nod and choose to say not a word 

the world blindly seeks a cure

in the sunlight

i've never counted life in years

moments like pearls on a strand

time doesn't pass it lingers

alive in each encounter i hold

fully here yet missing in a memory

i wander with eyes wide shut

looking around the next corner

for something i lost but never had

surrounded in the sunshine with wings

a thousand butterflies on fire

my life is a story someone is telling

the next page will not turn

i must await the reader's cue

so much glorious heartbreak in a word

ahead the light is shining brightly

the next moment will be silver-lined

still missing

it's thursday and a cold wind is blowing the snow
distracting my eyes like the news story of the boy
missing these ten long years and how does a teen
walk down the street and take the train to london
town and become one with the thin air it just does
not
make
sense
though the wind is blowing i have a coat and hat
i have a house and a job and people that love and
hug and care for me and he presumably had all
that as well yet he walked away from it all with
his favourite outfit a couple hundred quid and
never
came
back
his family keeps his room his copy of tolkien on
the shelf with locks on doors unchanged thinking
ten years on he might still have that key in his
pocket he might still come home and it's a chilly
february but the mind must and reconcile to
keep
hope
alive
sure there are some of us who secretly dream of
disappearing so the rare person who succeeds
haunts not just his grieving family but a world
that wants to know the rest of the story and
perhaps it may still be a happy ending but i fear
nobody
will
know

an icy walk

the treads on my boots grip the ungrippable

like studs on snow tires they slice through

the frozen matter on the ground no match

crunch

i'm moving faster than i expected with all

the sleet cannot stay my feet in these boots

i'm bounding through drifts and slushy mess

splash

the persistent freezing rain begins to coat 

my coat stiffens in the arctic temperatures

but inside i'm warm and dry impervious

crackle

in time i will become an ice sculpture

the ornament of a path less traveled

all to the unrelenting patter of icicles

chink

winter weather advisory

it's still not snowing. for days the forecast fanfare foretold 

snowflakes, winter storm warnings abounding, and staring 

out the window past the current negative temps and tales of 

snow for the next 6 hours the green grass and dismal freezing 

rain belie the snowflake icon. i can't sit still. i check the 

window. i check the app. the continual disagreement echoed 

by the tumultuous wind keeps me restless. i'm pacing. i'm 

looking for signs of something new, something overdue, 

but all i see is complacent normalcy. an unusual icicle here 

and there but otherwise a normal february landscape. this 

does not fit. the arctic air mixed with the sub-zero temps 

combined with clouds producing precipitation all point to 

white puffy flakes. i'm ready for winter to be over but i'm 

also ready to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of a frosted landscape. 

all the normal is upside down and i'm still adjusting. the wind 

fretfully howls outside my window, but not to decorate trees 

with snow ornaments. what if everything i used to distract me 

is no longer at hand? He makes everything beautiful in His 

own time...can i wait for that? is it snowing yet? will it ever?

sonnet 2021

when all the world around does fade away

and hope shines through the clouds that block the sun

I find this life of ash and soot turned grey

begins to shine more bright than anyone

though rain that falls may sting my cheeks at times

more soft than tears that fall the drops obscure

my eyes are clear and see beyond the grime

to where all things are washed anew, made pure

although my hand has yet to feel your touch

each day I know is less to wait for you

what thought it makes my joy abound so much

to hold you close until you find me true

this life so full so lost is whirling free

as I with you am all I wish to be

grey eventide

the light has changed as the grey sky almost 

imperceptibly takes on a shimmer as if the sun 

no one saw is yet gleaming a farewell to the day 

without rain and a haunting angst steals through 

the air as the road bends and the trees shiver 

almost as if one could reach beyond this moment 

and capture something lost or maybe forgotten 

though it seems that i can always remember what 

he said when i least expect it like a grey day with 

barely a hint of blue it still takes me by surprise 

with a pang like the unexpected twinge of a scar 

long-healed the remembering while painful reminds 

me that i am alive and i survive in spite of the pieces 

i've left behind and while his words might whisper 

through the air at such a twilight moment when i'd 

rather think about tomorrow and the coming spring 

i can lay each word back down and turn my face to 

catch the last rays of a day that was new and one i did 

my best to live well and find the hope to keep heart in 

a life that has grey days with the hint of glorious hues 

rest

to and fro

the hammock swings

long shadows tell

summer sunlight

ending soft

harsh rays tempered

by dying light

as cooling night

greets the sun

i feel the weave

each thread unique

gently cradled

where work ceased

the creak of pins

like distant strings

tell of a world

where hope reigns

i'm lying still

this summer eve

with eyes half closed

in thoughts of peace

beyond the gate

a world awaits

a clamouring throng

held at bay

i only hear

the distant roar

like waves of foam

crashing on sand

i rock and rock

each movement sweet

i'm staying here

alone at rest

my true heartbeat

be still and know

thoughts on borrowed time

 excerpt from an old journal entry

what does it mean this idea of borrowed time? of living on borrowed time? the premise being that the thing that kills you has already been set in motion; that your days were numbered and they ran out but you're still living. but borrowed from who or where?

a search yields little fruit as to the historical footprints of the two words now joined, but it strikes me that in this mad game we call life every breath of every being is borrowed time. grace. borrowed from His blood. from our first gasp we exist under a death sentence and every moment is an opportunity lent us to plead the blood. 

to recognise that our life is not our own. to breathe in grace and breathe out gratitude. we can never repay the loan but we can make good use of it. if I truly understood or saw the remaining grains of sand what would I do differently? how would I spend such a debt? what words would I say or leave unsaid?

borrowed from His blood. or could I see each moment as a heartbeat closer to time never ending? life borrowed from life everlasting--the chance to choose to never die or spend borrowed time until it runs out. what incredible mercy is mine.

Retail Therapy

The shopkeeper's glad it's raining

the folks straggle in from the wet

buy trinkets and things

from places unseen

in hopes they might travel there yet.

The shoppers are dreaming of sunshine

of gold coast and blue coast and west

throw coins in the till 

like a deep wishing well

and pray for a chance just to rest.

The days go around like a circus

the same show for different eyes

each new little thing

that comes into the ring

they greet with authentic surprise.

The shopkeeper closes up tight

he thinks of a day without rain

when sorrow and sighs

and customer whys

no longer are his to maintain.

Tomorrows dance away in his mind

he wonders how far he could go

if all he had saved

from yesterday's rain

was more than just melted snow.

Sticking Points and Straws

Rich sang "we are not as strong as we think we are" and the adage rings true. Sure, stories of heroism and fidelity abound but in reality we give up quite easily. Superficially commitments may seem cast-iron yet even the most dedicated are probably avoiding working on things that grate one against the other. Many would relish a trip to the dentist rather than tell their boss or their dear friend how much the way they talk to them bothers them. The rugs in the living rooms of our houses are becoming couches with all the avoided issues we sweep under them.

One might ask why when we're all in the same boat, all imperfect, all growing, all deep down wanting to learn how to love better, do we run away from the very thing that would help draw us closer to each other and give us the very thing we desire. The nuanced answer looks different to each wounded heart but I suspect that it's tied to the facet of mistrust: we doubt that when push comes to shove the other person would still choose to press in, to love, to stay with us no matter what.

Those sticking points and straws that break the camel's back are not just spectres that haunt the faces of our loved ones. We all have the metaphorical lines we've drawn in the sand, the things we promise ourselves we would never tolerate. We hide, run, fight, the very ones trying to find common ground because they come packaged in their own imperfections and relational quirks. What if we were the people we desired to know across the table? What if we chose to take a deep breath and not run, not fight, not hide our broken hearts but say in spite of the disappointment, in spite of the aches I will love and I will stay? 

OtR sings, "I will listen long as I am able/There's no place I'd rather be." We were born to love. This world and our brokenness fights the capacity until we give up all too quickly. It's not just fireworks and moonbeams. It's staying the course, holding each other when it's easier to let go. That's who I want to entwine my life with. Daily the temptation comes to just skip it but that's also who I want to be. Past the point of giving up let's find the Reason to stay.

nevertheless

the wind at her back

a storm in her sails

half-drowning she presses on

the blood on his lips

a bruise on his chest

he swings a desperate fist

time running out

the doctor's grim word

yet the lungs keep filling with air

declined yet again

the wallet is bare

but hope for provision comes

leg crushed beneath

fire everywhere

and still he crawls along

nevertheless

all hope seems lost

something is rising strong

nevertheless

lift up your eyes

the day is about to dawn

nevertheless

against all odds

tomorrow becomes today