Simple really.
Nothing complicated
about watching its spectacular
image rising
over the horizon.
Makes you wonder
for a moment,
just a thought,
how small we really are,
and how magical
is the sunlight on a summer’s day.
Watching the stars overnight
and falling asleep in the sky,
a peek of morning sunshine,
lights up the world around us,
any chill turns warm,
like a thermostat in the house.
Yet this is real,
this energy,
this orb before our very eyes
lights up our world.
I used to cry a lot,
the tears readily
descending my cheeks.
If I let myself go
the sobbing was
rather spectacular,
to tell a tale.
When I was alone,
I would stare out windows
count the slats
in my blinds,
waiting for the sunlight,
and then watching the light
descend into another night,
while the tears might remain.
While alone
my mind would stir,
I’d imagine all those scary
things that haunt our mind,
when left alone,
our own devices,
no longer working
in the manner we might wish.
When traveling alone
I remember seeing the world
with my eyes
naked to the world around me.
I would have to stand up
without assistance,
make sure no one around
saw my life unsteady.
Instead I would wish
the many faces nearby
would see a man
with a settled heart
and a yearning soul.
He would play with rocks
different shapes and sizes
some skippers,
others too bulky,
heavy ones
and little pebbles.
He’d release them in water,
watching them float
making waves to help them
move along the clear floor,
the rocks were everywhere,
and he could play for hours
forgetting everything around,
only he and the wet sands
with rocky shorelines,
and summer vistas.
As a little boy,
he might only remember
these things,
the moments by the beach
where rocks everywhere
represented his own
quiet and safe world.
When a little boy,
he thinks little
of the consequence
of having to experience loss.
His world is in front of him,
waves play with his rocks,
he can choose his skippers
or the ones he lugs
with all his might
to make a big splash.
As a little boy,
he wanted somehow,
someway in the summertime,
to make a big splash.
A starlit horizon
eyes awake
thoughts for miles
already torn
wondering
not only the day ahead
hours turn into
new life, new eyes.
Wonder of beauty
soft and supple
this newborn philosophy
needs nurturing
hands to guide
such is a
birthing soul.
What will she love
when bringing joy
into the hearts
of all who hold
her humble beginnings.
I still want to figure it out
even when it doesn’t matter,
I think about those days,
all the different ways
we did live our lives,
we did hide our sorrows.
I think about the time now,
the what ifs
the why nots
the constant barrage
of never knowing how.
We live a certain way
in our society,
the ability to walk away
is sometimes easier than sticking around
then there’s that missing part,
that missing what we never want to return.
Now we wait
for that’s all that happens
anticipating
she’s readying herself
we are excited
it is the dawning,
a child in our midst,
about to take early breaths,
those first moments,
that miracle,
the birth of a child.
Think about the beauty,
a precious gift,
cannot imagine
a more definitive
reality
of what is the
human condition
in all its
innocence.
I’ll feel humility,
this treasure
a grandchild
holds promise
there is something
wonderful about
the birth of a child.
She is my baby,
holding onto her child.
I don’t know which one
to tell, to elaborate upon.
I have all these moments
call them experiences
all with a common
denominator, a sameness
that I can think about
that I can’t think about.
I have all these stories
they are the mold of my life,
every little bit of strife,
every time I feel fascinated
I find some way to reduce
the harmony of my passion.
When I was a younger man,
the story had just began
of a young boy in crisis
he’d lost a lot in his short life.
He knew people grew tired
he was fatigued himself
figured it was only normal,
lived that way every day.
He wondered when the day
would arrive he might look away.
Here in the moment
greatest fears revealed,
the body stunned
almost motionless
frozen in time.
Seems a thought
brought this fury
in the mind.
Seems everything mattered
when suddenly
no recourse
is available
only the pit in the stomach
that quiet
monster of pain.
Second guess ourselves
now, again, always
a wandering soul
lost searching
a lasting memory
forbidden fears,
always that scrutiny
steals peace of mind.
Seems stability
takes a sabbatical.
Simple really,
sitting on a hill,
gravel path leading
to my favorite observation
tower, leading my mind
beyond the moment before.
I’d climb the steps
knowing I’d reach the top,
sitting above the trees
landscape below.
I could look forever up there
and still be standing alone,
my thoughts my own,
my world around me.
Still no answers
I’ll decide when to leave.
There is that guttural feeling,
the slippery slope
of wondering what if
instead of knowing why.
I’d watch sunsets
all day long
if the time ever allowed
beyond that one setting sun,
began another evening
of watching my fears
dance around in my head.
Gaze along the treeline,
looking hard to see my home,
never finding anything
reminds me of that one time,
when in the heat of summer
I could feel the world around me,
hanging tight to the rail
of my favorite observation tower,
thinking about the gravel path
got me where I needed to be.
She sings a song,
and I begin to weep.
I want to though,
it’s what the music asks.
Takes me away,
on a journey,
somewhere deep in my mind,
where everything speaks
of being human,
learning to live
with that we have
and that we have not.
There’s something beautiful
in a voice,
a passionate breath,
telling stories,
minding her own tears,
talking about love,
about loss
about anything
makes a good song.
Listening to Joan Baez
in the twilight of a starless sky,
the gray of a winter’s night,
waiting for the next storm,
winds of change,
the ground is frozen,
waiting for the fall.
I listened to her voice,
made me want to cry,
everything I believed
seemed so simple
in that time,
a yesteryear,
when questions remained
always looking around,
hoping someone might
suggest an answer,
turn me on to a new path,
makes me wonder
if I might ever
find it again.
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