Seeking Truths

Walk with me this fine summer day,

Let me understand just what this way

of sharing ideals and complementing life

can do to end the plight of immoral strife.

We live in the land for freedom for everyone

yet look outside and see how many haven’t one

no singular feats to suggest an enterprise

may take their pain away, like a short-live prize.

We are world truly needs one another

to survive yet, even alone we will dive

if not together, then we begin a trail separate

that one we’d rather always differentiate.

One goal together as growing and living society

might be to outlast the ever present hypocrisy.

What are the truths we have designed our lives by,

why then do they still cause dreams and hopes to die.

That Disconnect Scream

Feel it,

the moment when it occurs,

can’t quite speak to it,

but you know its there,

won’t be until later,

when breathing becomes easier,

that we can begin to process,

just why that happened,

what caused me to look you in the eye,

and fail to say ‘I love you’

what is it that gets in the way

won’t let me knock down the wall,

the invisible glass

separates what I really feel from what I want to say.

Feel it,

when it occurs,

the disconnect is there,

no matter how loud I scream inside,

not a word, no utterance,

my eyes are even locked tight to protect my soul.

I wish I could,

let my internal demons be released,

certainly not to harm,


to allow that goodness to always remain.

Find it,


Face in Shadows


I did a double take,

while she relaxed in the waves,

a quick look, assessing followers

without giving away the moment

lips, smile, a certain nod,

held high but not for me,

while you stole away,

I glanced to see her safe

out of harm’s way,

like two strangers pass

across each other’s lives.

I wondered when we might

if ever on such a day,

would we know each other

outside the shadows …

I looked at her, she seemed ok,

the day’s activities

remain the same,

We’d walk this way again,

without any need to stay.


* photo found on pinterest

Shattered by Time

I do wonder,

I am a figure,

a stranger inside a frame,

a history that defines their reality,

while I meander the onlooker.

When I first arrive I am a seeker,

and now,

while I am familiar only with

bricks and stone,

I wonder about hands and fingertips,

those that held their lives

inside similar columns,

those that bought the Jesuit movement,

that mindset that created a different morning,

a new faith,

forced upon souls that wanted to believe.

Yet I stand here the visitor,

recording my own history,

with ghosts and sweet energy,

what is spiritual to me fuels their ancestry.

* photo courtesy of Elena Levon Photography

When Words Will Weave


Once, as a child, I misunderstood,

suddenly my world became filled

with some syllabic garble,

I was afraid from that very moment

my words were nonsensical

that is until I listened to you,

the voices of matter around me.

I soon discovered that words

did ring aloud upon deaf ears

certainly when those being spoken

to were misdirected and cruel.

So while I know now what certainly

then became an albatross of mixed

messages, similes and metaphors,

today I can glance outside at a sunrise

and see the beauty in description

rather than shudder away in some barren

field of malcontent believing everything

I say has little meaning or purpose.

Today I live for that certain word, utterance

leads me swiftly into my following day

always with some hope peace may weave.


* photo found on Margaret’s Opening Night website

Good Morning Music

I wake to the sound of the world outdoors

the movement, a series of moving cars

the birds of course or the primary chorus

a sunlit day, windows open, clear pictures


I look for the music that can embrace my day

what sound do I need to find my words

and suddenly I know I am in a listening way

the world as it wakens around me. Glance towards


a sky peeking through full bloom meadows and fields

see the love of nature that encompasses our lives

when questions of who am I and what do I see

perhaps let this simple pleasure our love revives


For when is it on a glorious moment in the month of July

do we suddenly forget to breathe and instead do we cry

Because We Act


We do everything by the script,

how we manage our morning,

what time we show up,

when we decide to take care of this,

why do we need to live a mechanical life

Imagine if all the gears just stopped,

who would react, and who might run away.

yet, where would they go to find themselves,

perhaps in the woods, eventually they might die,

we do know yet what they have found,

because they never come to retell the story,

we just anticipate, the same way we just know

our world is going to exist as we plan in the morning,

and it will as it does at dusk when our minds expand.

I remember as a child the first I heard the words,

“All the world’s a stage’ I didn’t get it,

I knew it was pretty because that’s what my teacher

taught us about Shakespeare, lovely language.

Tonight while I again wait for that moment,

the crestfallen moon that shines upon my eye,

when I hope to figure out the reason why I want to stay awake

rather than fall into the fear of my dreams,

I wonder really what it means ‘to be or not to be’

I used to construe as death’s finality,

today, I’m wondering if I want to be like you, her, them

what identity do I choose with each morning sun rise.

* photo found on thefilmexperiment