adrift

i rise and walk through dusty days
the heat shimmers off the streets
i lay down my head when day is done
but find no rest between the sheets
days slip by like grains of sand
in an hourglass grown obscure
once i thought a hope was coming
now i think i'm not so sure
i used to tell my wandering feet
faerie tales of a home to come
now my steps seem automated
on a path that's troublesome
i believed i could face anything
because He asked it of me
how little i knew back then
how debilitating nothing can be
i'm still learning how to bear it
this cross like Éowyn a cage
but some nights the glassy expanse
seems too great for courage
don't give in to the emptiness
i whisper as the boat rocks slow
His love never failed me yet
keep waiting for the wind to blow

borrowed time

it's relentless the march that bows to no man
that stops for no woman no matter how she
pleads and as the Pleiades fall on yet another
year gone by i think of how near we sometimes
come to the hourglass running out perhaps
daily the possibility passes us by and we
oblivious to death's soft breath keep laughing
and weeping and arguing until we can no
longer unless sometimes the nearness is
thrust upon us through a moment a cut cord
a machine part that should have failed sending
us hurtling into forever and we pause and i
pause
realize i'm living on borrowed time that i
do not own and as with anything borrowed
i must take good care for i must return it
give an answer for its use even if i can't
quite seem to figure out the purpose in this
hour day year life i must still live knowing
each breath well each breath could be my
last and i don't decide when so i must take
care trust that He who does know has a plan
beyond my railings wanderings longings
this too shall pass but i shall never pass
out of His sovereign relentless arms of love

a jade's trick

he, a friend, once said, perhaps
implored, "don't get jaded," and
i, though far away, have never
forgotten, for long anyway, those
simple words, heartfelt petitions,
since as an idealist, God knows
i've tried not to be, i'm always
swinging, with a rope but tenuous,
at the edge of clarion call, hopeful,
and catastrophe, a run into the
night, but that swinging, taut and
expectant, is far from jaded, coming
from the old word jade, a bitter woman
or a worn-out horse, both, incidentally,
ill-used, and that swinging, that's hope,
but jaded is lost, and i thank that
friend for his words, faithful wounds,
that left a mark, a memory scar,
to remind me, who he knew better
than i knew myself at that time,
so long ago, that this world eats,
devours, the dreamers, romantics,
passionate visionaries, not by dark
dungeons, cages of disuse, but by
apathy, disillusionment, the dearth
left when despair, that persuasive
fiend, stops hope from swinging,
from pauses, commas leading on,
to ends, full stops with nothing after.

when we wake up

dear world going crazy,
i'm standing on a street corner watching
you run by and i'm starting to get a
little dizzy as i see the flashes of guns
in malls and pearly whites that spew
lies and sometimes i'm not sure who
to believe and honestly it's closer
than the dead lying on a french
street it's the friends who choose
ignorance and hate or just simply
fear and turning away from love
and don't i know about running
because i am an expert after all
when the night closes in i find it
easier to just slip away but i'm
learning that when it's all going
crazy you need to know where
to turn and that means standing
my ground for the love i believe
in and the Hope that never changes
so as you are spinning faster and
faster please see me standing by
and know i'm not going anywhere
even if i'm all alone on this spot
i believe that in the end the Truth
will still win and when you've
come to the end of your insanity
give up and give in to Him.
love, the wandering gypsy

the long river

i'm batting at some shadows
these mites before my eye
a glimpse comes here and there
not clear although i try

my words are calm and level
i dance carefully away
from the memories that haunt
success: the world at bay

when the sun is at its zenith
i congratulate myself
believing things unspoken
are safely on the shelf

my feeling's dead and buried
rest in peace i tell the past
those words that hung between us
were never meant to last

i casually brush at nothing
that's bothering my cheek
naturally in denial
of those things we do not speak

the One and Only

see there's this story in the Good Book you know
maybe you've even heard how it goes when this
prophet well he'd just challenged these bad dudes
to a sacrifice duel the one where if your gods are real
then you don't need a match and the dudes cried
and cried but no fire came then the prophet poured
it on and on and on and the wet sacrifice went up
like a barbecue on the fourth so he should be feeling
pretty high and then the wicked queen not the faerie
tale one but even worse because she was real and
nasty she sends the prophet a text telling him it's
over and she's gunning for him and he flips and
runs to the desert yep same prophet that just saw a
bull en flambe he runs like a scared doggy and he
says to the Big Guy yep same Guy that roasted the
offering he says it's over i'm stuck and You might
as well take me Home because after all she's coming
for me and i guess he kinda forgot as we all do Who
he was talking to 'cause it's easy in our world to see
the bad guys and forget and so the prophet sleeps and
gets angel dinners twice and then super strength to
hike to a meeting at a desert mountain and first comes
hurricane then comes earthquake then comes fire but
the Big Guy is silent until a quiet breeze and the
prophet knows this is it and he hears the question by
the One and Only who already knows the answer
and so he's honest about how sucky life is and how
he's pretty sure no one can get him out and it's all
just not fair and then he hears what he needs to hear
about what to do and how he's not alone but really
what all that 40+ days and the breeze coming up
tenderly has been is a reminder that even when i'm
a forgetful wimp He cares and hears and the only safe
place is trusting in the One and Only no matter what

homecoming

like an old song sweetly sung
with a melancholy air
i remember each worn note
yet the tune seems changed
finding loved ones have grown
though their voices are familiar
dearly missed i trace the faces
aware that now i miss others too
same roads same desk same stores
lives running every direction
same bright blue sky and blazing sun
but my world has expanded
home is comforting and comfortable
i should not think of what it lacks
distant streets colored houses lining canals
silent northern forests whispering of winter
home is friendly and familiar
though some friends are far away
i'll bow and count my blessings
with joy and a tear in my eye