When Walking in the Wood

I noticed tonight,

a deeper darkness

filling the mysterious quiet

of the wood, a forest of our mind.

 

We choose now today to be afraid,

we could walk freely

when in the stone castles

a moat our greatest fear.

 

Oh certain there were evil

lurking inside the shallows,

yet vulnerable as we might

have been, then it was so rare.

 

Today, and every day now,

it is not simply the forest life

watching our every move,

yet it is a jungle of lost humanity.

 

Such is a definitive cry of woe

to know our lives in a technical

brainwash of social embrace,

we forget a silent walk when alone.

 

Oh to know that forest of old

a place whereby our lives so bold.

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Watching The Snowy Night Sky

I’ve been waiting all day for the snow,

now I glance my window,

it arrives with a light affection

reminds me of my childhood

perhaps a memory that haunts me more than love

the delight of family,

the anticipation of a gathering,

the death of a cousin,

where in my silent fog of misunderstanding,

I watched the burial of a loved one,

while treetops echoed the reminder of snowy limbs,

the sort of day we might play,

but instead we watched a passing of life,

confusion, anger, loss, and tears were rife

on this day I watched my cousin laid into the wintry earth.

 

So tonight, I watch the sky again,

a quiet reminder of how our lives

are sweet in their ties to memory,

of love, of pain, of the loss all so bittersweet.

 

The snows are beautiful though ever so brief

Silent Moment

When just a glance

offers no chance.

 

When a quiet remember

ignites angry ember

 

While offering some solution

quickly dies our absolution

 

With every offered ideal

there seems a ready deal

 

I walked inside a mirage the other day,

I thought i had sort of found my way

yet I was schooled

nobody fooled

there was still some recompense

to help me certain not make any sense

of the world around me

the choices astound when we

 

lose our way

step away

 

for the light of some distant thoroughfare

would shadow reality if their own fare

were an ultimatum that offered choice

an opportunity to personally rejoice

while the other, the saboteur seems an outlier

quickly thought to be just that suggested crier.

 

While in truth the merits of one

would that we were never done.

Anger Fed

Spread like a wildfire

in its first inception

simply ablaze

a certain force of reckoning.

~

Will cannot sustain

the deceit of lost control

only we the patient

our human condition.

~

Might we identify cause

rather than toss a stone

catch the ember

so nearby an out stretched hand.

~

For it is the onus of ownership

will allow ash an honest scrutiny.

Look Closely If You Can

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At a quick glance we might call sweet shelter

the homes hold hope and prayer and a safety

for everyone inside, security

the temps suggest a different manner.

 

Across the city another enclave

of soul seeker human condition airs

indifference as a blizzard ensnares

their grip on surviving a city cave.

 

Two worlds drawn as one to both be witness

a record breaking month of snow fallen

on a city left homeless and sullen

while neighborhoods are defined by address.

 

Look closely at the eyes quiet release

of pain of sorrow of some hope for peace.

The Words That Speak

I read a poem today,

talked about saving a life,

that words could

in such a remarkable way,

cause someone to

rethink their moment,

that impulse,

the frightened reality

the edge.

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word

 

We might easily write about death,

oh the beauty of their lives,

the regret of time,

the nature of loneliness

how simple it is

when described

yet complicated when

lost.

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word

 

How does someone decide

to listen

what is the correct cadence

of wanting a wandering soul

to find their way

inside the mystique of

questioning

the human condition.

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word

 

I stood along the railroad tracks

watched the lights brighten

the clicking of the clack,

the deafening horn,

I watched the light of tomorrow

suddenly set in the western sky,

and then I stepped away …

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word.

The Tragedy of Time

Perhaps it is the not knowing

a circumstance

a press release in the evening news,

a morning alert

we all have found ourselves

recognizing the vulnerable nature

of the human condition –

oh is it death,

or simply the prolonged life

medical intervention,

that would have not extended any truths

centuries ago,

we just died,

a sort of flu,

unabated and watched,

observed and grieved.

 

Today, we see it in slow motion

the trip to the hospital,

the car ride,

a sudden turn

a flash of lights,

the triggers of taking a step off the edge,

and yet

there’s no time remaining

then,

afterward we know

only a memory.

 

There is that other real

tragedy of time,

those that wished for more

yet in their final moment

decidedly found Grace

where a soul

became such that entity

that begun a new journey

allowing the living

to pass through and step inside

a dream,

a fantasy

we cannot know

until some elegance

begins

while we do eventually

come prepared.