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

early evenings

the darkness comes early

lasts longer than light

the cold's in the bones

there's no will to fight

the waiting seems endless

with false hopes and turns

when finally you grasp it

it no longer burns

'tween shadow and starlight

you can't find your breath

the glow of the sunrise

like waking from death

the sunshine breaks through

the golden leaves shine

for a moment you're lost

for a moment you're mine

but mostly the clouds

grey and heavy with rain

pour lead in your soul

sound an endless refrain

is the thing that you long

worth the price that you pay

can you live with the cost

at the end of the day

when the ache overwhelms

and you've nowhere to go

i'm holding out hope

where the rain turns to snow

so blow on that flame

when the night is too long

wrap your love with a bow

i'll come to your song

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

risk

I sit beneath the soft moonlight

I cannot see so far

yet what I see is clear as dusk

and heavy as a scar

another dream has turned to rust

I shudder at the chill

to think of what there might have been

if I had climbed that hill

the walls around my dead-end way

seem silent as the grave

until I glimpse another’s path

and how I might behave

in daylight’s green unhealthy hue

life seems to be unfair

until I wake beneath the glow

find sober thoughts are there

so struggle on I know I must

leave envy to the rear

alone or not one path I’m given

to shine reflected here

the risk is great each passing hour

to love to leave to stay

a simple word a gesture strong

and fears could melt away

but moments pass and silence stays

perhaps it’s for the best

no one can know what each day brings

beneath this moon I’ll rest

unless someday the question comes

I’ll know then what to do

until my heart has found a home

to one thing I’ll stay true

it's fall again

will you come with me past the old oak tree

where the shivering aspen stand

when the frosty breeze stirs up the leaves

we can walk together hand in hand

as the shadows grow there are things you know

that I long to hear spoken softly

let the dying day whisk your cares away

give your heart to me so freely

it's the time of year when the end is near

and your soul feels the weight of time

with a dying grace and a warm embrace

we can find the sad sublime

the leaves that fall from the trees so tall

tell of glories that are past

of long summer days far from winter's gaze

and the shadows that it casts

I wonder still when I feel the chill

how my heart can thrill with pain

thinking of your smile that you shared awhile

though you never come again

in this season's change with its weather range

my emotions ebb and flow

and though lonely now I find hope somehow

something buried deep will grow

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

the deep moment

who knows the light 

that fills your eyes 

when through the trees 

by moon surprised

or how the lines

that grace your lips 

grow deeper as

each cup you sip

whose voice can wake

your sleeping soul 

or make you laugh 

without control 

who hears you when 

the day is done 

the ups and downs 

the race you’ve run 

the shallow steps 

you take each day 

add up to much 

deep in your way

who finds you there 

and holds you close 

content to be 

who loves you most 

anon

your face across the crowded room

unexpectedly there

a peaceful walk among the trees

where I expected storms

my heart leaps I move to greet

a thought stops me anon

I am mistaken

like the warm sun on my face

comforting like a lazy summer day

until the chill autumn winds

belie its pleasant dream

something in a stranger's eyes

the echo of your gaze

I miss you

could I stop the shortening days

the mix of love and loss

season following empty season

without you near to me

my smile like fading daylight

greets each passing visage

masking lingering heartache

as years stretch on and on

turning time

I sat outside your window 

and hoped the light would glow 

without a cry

life’s passing by

and like the day it goes 

through winter’s silent hours 

and spring’s precocious way

my heart has ached 

as if she’d break 

to know what you would say 

the zephyr warmed my face 

as summer ushered in 

long days of fun 

beneath the sun 

before fall rains begin 

each season keeps on passing 

like seaweed on the sea 

beneath the crash 

that’s roaring past 

my heart longs just to be 

I know it’s not forever 

as moments pass me by 

I’ll shed a tear

but stay right here 

you’ll someday heed my cry

the window near my head

will finally open wide 

I’ll see your face 

feel your embrace 

and know that peace inside 

so though the shade is down 

as nighttime follows day

incline your ear

and reappear 

to drive the dark away 

subtext

 a thousand words 

we paint a scene 

professing knowledge 

by other means 

than face to face 

one to another 

we’d rather not try

and keep our brother

who stands apart 

outside our touch 

because we fear

it’d be too much 

to let him close 

give him free choice 

the risky option 

to hear his voice 

and find he might 

think differently 

would rock the core

of you and me

so safe we stay

in our glass shell

and prattle on

the words we tell 

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…

one plus zero doesn't equal two

i hear your voice clearly

you're just within reach

your words proclaim strongly

the message you preach

but when the door closes

and i'm left here alone

your words become empty

as still as the phone

you never put flesh 

to your friendly embraces

true though they may be

to other chosen faces

the hardest of sayings

are the ones left unspoken

like the promise of water

where the well pump is broken

how am i to believe

all this life's meant to be

when alone i can never

grasp the one thing i need

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

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.

the choice once more

time and again I watched you walk away

though you wore a different face

the message was the same

friend, lover, family, foe

you shook your head and went

and I was left alone

I see it in your eyes each time

the wrestle to believe

I stretch my arms a little wider

and will you not to go

I know I'm an eagle

in a world of ostriches

but you could fly too

choose to embrace the heart I offer

know it wants His best

He'll catch us when we stumble

a thousand scars testify

the only unbearable thing

is if you decide not to love

as broken as I feel I won't relent

each new face holds hope

I'll consider my heart well-spent 

johnny-come-lately

Have you ever stood in a crowd of people listening intently to a joke and when the punchline came you didn't get it? Behind your forced laughter you desperately hope no one notices how artificial it is. Or perhaps you arrive to a party and find that your frock is so last year. Maybe the people are too nice to say but you see their sly glances and the mocking comments made not quite in sotto voce.

I am not one to swim upstream. No, I'm more the type who hops out of the water and bushwhacks up the bank. Unfortunately, sitting on the edge of the river croaking (pun intended) is not the most comfortable place. It's nice to be one of the crowd, to have the Dufflepuds surround you with hearty agreement.

History exalts the very people who pioneer, who refuse to stop thinking in the face of mass stupidity, and who persevere when everyone else goes home. What history neglects to elucidate are the long days and nights when those trend-setters trudge wearily back to their home, barely fighting off the mounds of discouragement that build after yet another set-back, yet another chorus of nay-sayers, and yet another day without seeing dreams come true. History is mum on the dreamers who never made it; who, with the stars struck from their eyes, submitted to the burden of conformity and let others realize their ideas.

I've stood in that crowd of people whose eyes quickly glaze over as they cannot understand the passion that burns within another person. I've been called too intense, intimidating, just plain wrong. I must learn from my mistakes, yes as all must, but to not go gently into that great night. I must also accept that being present and stepping forward lacks the clarity of hindsight.

There are measures of success and there are books in which my name must be and others that matter not beyond this life of striving breaths. The types are not mutually exclusive but neither are they necessarily inclusive.

I don't fit. I never have. At times I do belong. Other times, not so much. Ofttimes I am suspended between wonder and stupefaction at the antics of my "fellow" humans, as if I were an alien. Standing on this stage of life and finding the script in my hand doesn't match those around me. My lines are off, I came in at the wrong cue, and I'm forever losing my place.

In my charade of confidence my favorite prop is semantics and my heart thrills when I meet with another soul who cherishes the nuance of a exquisite turn of phrase. They do exist, other ones climbing the bank at my side and I am eternally thankful when a good conversation reminds me.