An Easter Sunday Prayer

I would wish we might all love,

if only for the hours of this day,

turn to one another,

the fear we even imagine in doing so,

be put aside,

for we are all wanting to show effort

toward recognizing our own

sense of balance

in knowing

there is a special bond,

a reality,

a certain wanton risk perhaps

answered when

in unison

together,

looking in each other’s eyes,

we might know love.

For I haven’t the foggiest notion

who wrote the book,

beyond the letters, the words,

the sayings, the famous and infamous remarks,

I haven’t any knowledge beyond

my own response,

my reaction,

my longing to understand

when humanity

might let themselves

touch

upon the beauty of each other

without the urgency of reward,

oh then,

there might be grace in the certainty

of celebration,

for we are

one love,

we are

one.

 

Happy Easter everyone! Please, peace!

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The Sitting Hours

I always looked forward to the late hours,

the night flying by with dialogue and absurdities,

everything we could say we believed, and more importantly,

we loved,

We did delight in knowing we could look in each other’s eyes,

well into the twilight,

all of us, whoever might have chosen the time,

or simply allowed ourselves to be drawn in,

that was the key,

we knew always we wanted to be there.

 

These are the holidays we would request

each other’s company,

my sister, brothers, and mom,

our sister’s, children and the occasion of relatives …

so current on everything we knew.

to be important in everyone’s lives.

With dad in the background, an occasional chuckle,

he’d pass out the a beverage with endearing blue eyes,

we all heard his screams inside,

the delight of our lives, he is a beautiful man.

 

We were, are, can be the beautiful people,

the family that smiles, tells jokes, lives lives with uncanny candor.

These are the nights when time would value,

only the shared nostalgia of wanting the laughs

in the history of our lives.

These are the holidays when love does always,

compete well with the nature of our own,

sweet recall, when the essence of everything we believed,

in the realm of the human condition,

could suddenly find the energy

to contribute the next line,

so the stories never found a way to end …

Sun Streaked Sky on Easter Morning

sunstreak

We watched the sunrise on Easter morning.

Crystal clear, God cast hands across the sky,

lifted clouds; memory of shadowing

ills,  sweet brilliance to enhance our why …

When last night our energy seemed quite low

we soon might now in the passing of hours

resolve eternal the fears we all know.

Distant the annals of shame do tower

that streak nearby the coloring high winds.

Our lives today might renew forever

if God in sheer beauty and grace rescinds

the troubled child, whose antics in fever

recall our sorrows and human failure,

while the morning sunlight cries our future.