shuffle step

I saw an old man walking

his shoulders softly drooping

the shuffle step

the weight of years

the questions never pausing

I gazed at him unseen

though rough his steps not stopping

from where he came

to where he goes

I knew I'd never know

Has time to him been kind

do memories haunt his way

of faces gone

what might have been

I mused on possibilities

He might have stayed indoors

decaying by the fire

yet on the eve

of death's new day

he chose to soldier on

Perhaps in hime I see

the path we all may tread

each day a chance

to venture forth

and see what lies ahead

orphan thoughts

i hold a small life in my hands

it moves, it breathes, it purrs

its days are numbered this is one

as it runs to two i think of others

this winter season ending time

a parent lost a loved one gone

a moving breathing life silent

just as i was once held

the arms that hold me hold no longer

though you may become the one

who holds the small beating life

you are never ready to be an orphan

when you can no longer nestle

find security in a strong embrace

the sun still shines and the day is three

counting down to eternity

i hold the little fur ball closer

four of how many days are past

i grasp life in this fleeting moment

as Dillard ironically noted

instead of holding on to rocks

my orphan heart seeks others

small lives to snuggle close

until the day is done

noise

the noise comes loud the noise comes soft

i cannot stop the noise from deafening

a thousand voices clamoring

for me to be some way

as years increase the decibels match

the demands escalate in step

i'm too much or not enough

but mostly just me

the pervasive lie behind the noise dictates

the change will win for me acclaim

the crowd with love my name

whatever it may be

i wrap a cloak of apathy to shield me from the pain

to try and stay true to my way

resist the camouflage

but it's in vain

passion is pain and life is pain so they say

regardless of the road i take

i must make a stand

choose this day

the way i walk is solitary in this forest dim

i have not found a soul to join

to be unique takes strength

and lonely courage

in the end it's not my choice to shout

i want not my own words

to make some lasting noise

let glory be my voice

walk with me

sometimes the way is damp

although the stream is dry

and when I hope for some kind word

the people pass me by

the trees that shade the sun

breathe chillness in the air

and though I long for warmer days

fall's coming everywhere

when down the path I ran

you lagged a ways behind

but when I slowed you sped ahead

what did you have in mind

the faces through the years

some stay while others go 

if winter's frost were tempered down

they could relax I know

the road can stretch for miles

so lonely is the way

my steps don't match the friends I've had

and I've no place to stay

but in the stillness deep

the whisper still can come

the narrow path is worth the risk

the ending lies at home

glimpses

i'm right i'm sure

and here again

until i see

your face and cringe

no matter how

i try to be

i cannot win

your sympathy

for others feel 

your softest gaze

yet never can

i bend my ways

enough to be

who you desire

to earn your love

avoid your ire

you're not the first

won't be the last

while i have breath

i can't get past

to be myself

to please someone

the paradox

can't overcome

i pause and gaze

up at the sky

the evening stars

are standing by

i hold my heart

then let it go

safe in the thought

of what i know

someday i'll find

that i can be

all that i dream

eternally

uncertain times

pieces of color patched together

noises and horns distracting voices

things i forgot to do

the morning is over the day almost gone

maybe tomorrow something will come

i'll remember what

items in order on small scraps of paper

litter the table and fill up the basket

lists i should get done

thirty seconds a drop and another one passes

videos of humour and other folk's lives

maybe i can skip that

closing my eyes as the summer sun sets

wondering if the road leads anywhere soon

i'd like to know

empty long days interspersed with flashes

moments of beauty i'm caught unawares

somehow i'll make it

folding my fingers to see just a glimpse

perspective beyond these restless hours

i'm almost there

maybe what lasts isn't measured by numbers

currency of legacy in different weights

things i hope to see

feeling the heavy settle into my chest

while lightly i tread through uncertainty

now i'm letting go

put it off

i'm out of time

or so i say

and put it off

from this today

the thing can wait

i'll do it when

tomorrow comes

it's fine 'til then

the whisper soothes

the day flies by

full of stuff

i'd rather try

a day a year

it comes and goes

words unwritten

tv shows

i'm older now

the hair is grey

and still i say

maybe today

it's all i have

this here and now

to paint the sky

and change somehow

the page is blank

and so i stare

in hopes my thoughts

will find somewhere

but nothing comes

and so i sigh

tomorrow waits

until i die

Adieu St Stephens

the winter sun glows kindly

through coloured windows soft

panes testify to ages past

130 winter suns come and gone

the dust shivers on sturdy beams

as the organ plays one last song

temporary braces still standing strong

as voices pass into memories

who will remember the passion

pews retired to halls and gardens

partitioned rooms where choirs sang

altars whisper of vows forgotten

the eve of the end casts shadows

can an empty space hold pain

once full of hope and life

now reduced to begging favours

the door shuts slowly firmly

what fills one and not another

keep the lamp stand in the midst

bring your first love home

scars

my finger traces the lines 

broken flesh sewn together

signs of healing never forgotten

no longer smooth

skin once soft and supple

now split by a jagged line

interrupted peace roughly torn

but stronger now

a bit of broken glass

a curious toddler's reach

now a white streak on a pink palm

remember when

longer wider shows one

tracing the shoulder blade straight

marks of a surgeon's skill and care

diseases battled

hidden from my keen touch

deeper lie the unseen breaks

whispered words that burn like fire

just yesterday

I marvel looking close

between the cracks I see now

a light come shining through my scars

becoming glory

the mountains are calling

sometimes a picture cannot begin 

to capture the horizon 

to wrap a frame around the sky

and trap the colour of life 

growing green and dying golden 

the misty ridges from blue to distant grey

rippling into the future like waves upon the sea

warm dappled rays dancing on the skin 

the wind making tympanic music all around 

rocky trails lead to hidden vistas

with air so clear it makes the heart ache 

just to be is enough 

let go of all the questions that remain 

open wide arms outstretched in gratitude 

today the gift of breath

the moment ripe for second chances 

miles to go

the miles roll into the thousands 

as the asphalt ribbon ebbs and flows

waving fields of grass bend and bow

before the wind with few trees to break 

silence lives in the middle of nowhere 

heavy as the billowing clouds at dusk 

testimony to words unspoken 

a life unlived in exchange for endless sky

the promise of no walls to constrict 

compensation for no arms to enfold

the plains keeps their secrets well

only a few know the allure and reward

of horizons that never disappoint

satisfaction in relentless labour 

oblivion to restless millions captured 

by the concrete prisons that are never still

stillness is a gateway to eternal peace 

a glimpse of something yet to come 

as the miles roll into the thousands 

from sea to shining sea

Yesterday the Pacific sea left a sand dollar, not quite round, resting on the sands of the Oregon coast. Here begins its journey, where golden beaches lapped by ice-blue waters give way to towering tree-lined cliffs. In the coming forty days it will traverse the expansive nation from state to state, the journey of an imperfect sand dollar. What adventures will it find along the way before it comes to rest on the shores of the Atlantic? The empty shell of a life that’s past, will it find a new existence in faces full of memories? All the while its simple beauty may bring a smile to hearts far and near.

The journey begins…

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

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.