We Might Yearn a Child’s Eye

While we ran the backyards,

the slow walk through the dandelions

pollened by summer’s bees,

we did think alone,

the same way we,

the same notions, we may

have today, the same wonderment

of the psychological nature,

compels our being,

causes our heart to swoon,

allows for the time to stand still,

we can all be in love

when we know the answer is

truth in the manner of an eternal Grace.

I do know love, I like to say,

much better than yesterday,

though a child,

I knew love unconditionally

until one day …

 

We wander beyond our lost innocence

a compelling stir

of reality and fantasy,

suddenly knowing why our tears

could last forever,

or at least until

we are told that is

good enough,

life goes on,

time to move forward,

hold onto memory,

but never ever recall the same.

 

As a little boy,

I used to watch cars slip up the hill,

a winter’s night, the street light,

snow filled the neighborhood,

and my ten year old self

safely tucked inside a picture window,

could watch the world survive a winter’s storm.

I would often wonder about the people inside,

if they knew I was watching,

if they could tell even in that stormy moment,

they would never be alone,

lost and frozen in the cold,

the ice of the street

would prevent them from

being in their own home,

the comfort of home,

putting aside all of the day’s

concerns,

having a martini,

perhaps a cigar,

and maybe a little bit of fantasy,

thinking about that woman at the bar,

and wondering again,

did she really smile,

or was that simply nerves.

 

I once left a hillside campground,

the whole walk worrying about fire,

and later ran back up the trail,

crossed the mountain creek

we liked to call it,

a little stream of shale and rocks,

gurgling along Woods’s Hill,

a memory,

when I returned to camp,

the fires had begun to ignite,

I felt like a boy scout

stamping out our ignorance.

 

I remember the day he died,

my world ended just a little bit,

enough for me to know,

reality was a far greater burden,

than the easy bliss of childhood fantasy.

I remember thinking then,

I would never worry about dwelling

on the past,

because nowadays,

there is too much excitement ahead.

 

I never forgot you man,

always on my mind,

I’ve often wondered if your childhood,

was ever so easily defined.

 

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Words to Jacob

Wetterling

I’ve waited for this day, with no eager anticipation,

I remember the way, I first discovered you, realized

the news would be all about you,

I wondered what it would be like to lose someone,

to not have any idea, and only be left with pain,

the loss that seemed forever in a day,

in weeks, in months, in annual memorials,

celebrations,

in years I wondered where you were knowing you were

probably there the entire time …

 

I’ve watched children grow and reach their dreams,

I used to criticize your mom,

and felt guilty about it all the time,

how could I possibly ever imagine the fear and anxiety,

the monster left with her,

forever.

She created so much to protect you

and all the lives that followed your same path,

had a light of hope to wish for, maybe dream a little bit,

recognize there is a greater value than wanting what we cannot have.

 

This morning I heard the news, and felt a tear,

we’ve all waited so many years for this little boy we never knew,

yet a young man who touched so many hearts,

deserves a happy ending,

I guess that means we can rest knowing you haven’t suffered

these last 27 years.

Maybe you have, and that’s part of the life we’ll never know.

We do know this though, the monster’s been found,

he’ll hurt no one else.

 

We left our lights on tonight, and this time,

it became real.

 

 

to Jacob Wetterling – September 3rd, 2016 – may he rest in peace

Warm Face

The mask we wear,

shadows our lives,

might be removed when close to home

if we can see the eyes of those we love.

Today in our world we gather in peace

in hope tribulations, anxieties, unsettled

reminders of our humanity,

might be left outside in the cold unforgiving air,

while inside our lives become one in memory and story.

We will tell stories,

bring those people back to life,

for they have never left our side, only in that physical sense,

that in this moment, we continue to use to walk around,

to engage,

to make our presence known.

~

We are in love’s grace with our predecessors,

the mom and dad, favorite aunts and funny uncles,

cousin

the sweet memory of childhood dreams never broken

for compassionate arms always held our greatest fears.

~

We are in love today with our futures,

the gleam in eyes, the silly smiles, the elementary accomplishments

moving swift as young adults

help us realize the circle does continue to turn

wisely, all aimed toward that setting sun.

~

Today we feast on the beauty of family, and in the quiet of our

settling lives, we are reminded of certain fortune and peace,

a gathering of energy we hope might spill out into a rather

unassuming confused world beyond our control.

When reliance we do on whatever gratitude means in our minds

good heart and soul will reach for the heavens;

be thankful we are alive to celebrate spiritual agonies and beauty,

be the Grace we learned and pass on and into our hope.

be elegant and just love.

~

Warm faces, lulling laughs, quiet tears,

we all know truth today.

~

© Thom Amundsen 2015

Listening to the 60’s

The music will remain

I can always go back,

play around with time,

I can take a melody

and let it bring me home,

sitting in my bedroom,

the day before.

That’s where I would like to go,

just a minute before,

before the phone rang,

it would be so easy,

once again,

to be there,

playing,

being,

wondering,

hoping the way a child hopes,

without tears and confusion.

~

The sun was out,

the energy was contagious,

winning,

watching my teammates shine.

Yet every quiet moment,

you know

those times,

those when you are alone and nobody knows

times,

I kept wondering,

I know I heard the phone ring

last night.

That’s when life began to change,

a different look, feel, response to

what is real,

that’s when the music,

listening to the 60’s,

became my new friend.