Silent Refuge

I haven’t a simple out, this anxiety,

this setting,

a state of mind, soul-searching trauma

is our path

some diplomatic lunacy.

In truth

it hasn’t ever settled,

a decades long journey filled with

angst and trepidation.

Now when facing a greater

challenge

his body natural

will wish he curling into small

would be fetal posture.

For shields are down,

spears and spirits

would that life have meaning

beyond the edginess of a

double-edged sword.

Carry on good soldier

sadly never wore the stripes.

Last Night In Shadows

I waited outside criss crossed windows

anticipating her,

our lives together

like always, we were meant to be here.

She rounded the banister, bedtime linens flowing in the darkness

a light behind would shine her soul

such is the beauty of a woman in love in a twilight.

Her smile lit up the night,

this anticipation I watched her hands open locks

she would hold a key that meant,

yes, you do sweet reckoning my heart will stir.

I thought to myself in this quiet night

have I ever been, could I, is it possible,

this delightful moment is the first time I have experienced love.

I felt unsorted, like in a dream

all the significant moments of mystery might blend

until waking would I see her with me, next to me,

our hearts will intermingle now,

and as I do watch you rest so peacefully by my side,

I know in the immediacy,

I am your caregiver for life.

For while the world around us may continue to confuse,

we can in each other’s eyes know our truths leave others blind.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2021

First Moments

When doubt begins to wonder

and all the souls that gather around

suddenly want to splinter off,

an edgy sort of raw scrape upon our

own fragile sanity.

~

We might think we know,

protest the moment,

rather respond with a reaction

that only suggests we are

as fucked up as we believe ourselves.

~

What happens when we really cannot

our bodies, our selves

an old adage we once called a title

seems now so profound only wants

to speak to the here and now.

~

I remember one time,

I could clearly see the grain of a wall,

having looked so long

a blank slate of never ending worry

just across the room, just there.

~

Have we ever wondered why

each of us operates by our own set of rules,

despite knowing otherwise

fall on my sword

before I ever imagine something wise.

~

Seems a song playing on the radio

helped me know who I was,

know what pain felt like,

when a strung out heroine addict

was found dead in a seedy restroom.

~

Somebody cared about that moment,

they came and rescued his soul,

there was some reason to know why

yet the questions would always

far outweigh that sad reality.

~

Those moments when we suddenly

find our way,

when through the quiet of a morose

state of mind,

we ride the crest of that initial pain.

~

Those first moments we’d rather never explain.


© Thom Amundsen 2/2021

11 AM

It is when I read the news,

the WHO

releases numbers

some refuse to hear,

yet I am curious,

if not a little scared.

 

I looked outside tonight,

used to live on a quiet street,

maybe three cars an hour,

tonight,

on a busy highway,

a couple of cars, blocks apart,

8 PM,

not even bar time,

not close to rush hour

just a traffic glut

on a regular night.

 

I stopped in the grocery,

crossed paths with masks,

curious eyes,

downcast glances,

not a lot of conversation

when avoiding

human interaction.

 

I’ll go to bed again tonight,

I’ll be alone tonight,

the new me,

getting used to an isolation

without a cabin nearby.

I’ll think about those I love,

I miss,

I yearn,

my double life,

has become

a singular challenge

waiting on

tomorrow,

the news.


© Scott F Savage 3/2020

Waiting for the Zombies

I’m not one for mass hysteria,

won’t find me holding a

‘the world will end tomorrow’

or

catch me if you can

while I run myself ragged

with a self-seeking

paranoid delusion.

 

Walk me through the pain,

it is real,

it is scary,

so surreal feels like an apocalypse

not the news,

go shopping at Target tonight,

would you, would you dare,

wear a mask,

(not kidding about that one)

anticipate lots of empty

shelves

and more staff than you have ever needed.

 

They, the staff, the workers,

the kids and parents and friends and family,

they need their jobs,

they’re one of the fortunates,

as am I  teacher,

online learning,

we didn’t sign up for this,

but we will shine,

for tomorrow

our kids will find

a way to learn their skills,

rather than,

driving mom and dad insane.

 

Now let’s talk about zombies,

the eery fantasy,

I’ve never been into them,

not even

World War Z.

 

Just look at the horizon,

the quiet landscape,

only a few cars drifting by,

storefronts,

not boarded yet.

Only the hoarders

and the needful,

who only are thinking of themselves,

like me, sometimes,

I’m afraid.

 

Thank God for the service workers,

the medical, EMT, the delivery, civil servants …

all the others I seemingly ignore,

but count on,

to bring me my more.

 

We live in the path of

a mysterious virus,

like a machine it is expounding its girth,

we are all the suspect

of our own desire to breathe.

 

The zombies are coming,

(well they’re really not)

but what will we call this

when the dust settles,

the changing of our world,

the change in our lives.

 

Embrace the mystique of this our real,

let your heart and soul lead the way.

An Unconditional Prelude

We stood and watched,

heard about a couple of planes

ascending into the atmosphere

above and beyond a toxic city.

 

We wondered aloud,

thought oh my, such a tragedy,

imagined only a particular moment,

far beyond our backyard,

we don’t even need a fence,

so convenient,

so far away.

 

We began to stare

a certain shock

this calamity of our social

atmosphere,

shutting down,

closing, ending,

creating financial ruin,

the livelihood of so many,

suddenly matters little,

not a bitter response,

just one of humanity,

a time to understand,

find meaning.

 

There is ahead of ourselves a prelude

asking, universal, unconditional love.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2020

Stepping Away

Many times in my life,

have I stepped away,

taken a breather,

had my hand forced …

yet, when does the time come when we can

honestly say,

the choice is my own

for me to decide

in some sort of even way,

not a hostile arrangement,

by any means,

so out of character,

would be defiance and doom and gloom.

 

Stepping away

would ask for only a settlement

in love, in passion, in pursuance

of those pieces of our lives,

our own peace,

our desire to understand

a world beyond

selfish need.

 

Reality is a dream,

we can see deep along a river path,

the blossoming of spring,

the lush imagination

allows us  to draw

our own own

sweet circumstance

the beauty of a fantasy,

the magic of our mind.

 

So we do step away,

on occasion within ourselves,

in other situations,

we ask for a pardon,

and yet,

the road away does seem to

carry the weight

of our own self-proclaimed tragedy,

with far less burdensome angst,

than

if we stay within the course

of simple travesty.

 

Outside, the sun had begun to shine,

an overbearing competition inside.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2020

A Working Man

I am a working man,

with a verve, passion, a concept

of what I feel is right

in the vocation that I am.

 

I need to see the might

of quickly drawn out ideals

that give me inspiration,

capture a full moon at night.

 

I watched her drive away

her smile was something to hold

wondering then what happened

to the silence of today.

 

This isn’t who we imagine,

the working man in his day,

has thoughts of some reaction

speak to personal, my chagrin

 

I am a steadfast human being,

drawn by a mechanical means

I cannot step away from love,

a sordid state of wooing.

 

She walked away from a life we knew,

and then ironic, so did she.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2020

A Giving Value

Its been awhile

since a recommended analysis

would take me,

move me,

ask me to respond to life

and resonate.

 

While the world

continues to cycle

a round

a mechanical need

to survive

the crossing winds,

seems logical

we might all

seek the same

peace and solace.

 

Yet, it’s been awhile

since peace of mind

seemed relevant

to my own thoughts …

rewind,

the constant

pouring truth

having to comprehend,

what it might be

our own personality

subjects actions,

always a challenge.

 

Stand on the precipice

see the miles of opportuinity

if in flight

we fall rapidly,

but the observation,

distant eternity.

 

Step away and enjoy the view

that part of you, gives value too.


© Scott F Savage 3/2020

Its Quiet Routine

Its

deafening balance is one to be reckoned,

the quiet inside a sallowed severance,

the act of dismissal,

the purity within timely terror

on life

on reason

on separation

on courage on and on and on and on

we go the circus of our lives.

 

Its

measure of circumstance

erupts in a vision,

perhaps it is a dream

the waking sun explodes upon

a memory,

washing away the moments

the solitude

the granted harmony

the swift

welcome left now to fester

a lost melody.

 

Its

cruel hysteric necessitates

a reminder why,

this slow eventuality,

years upon years,

giving days their own causal

sacrifice inside the solemn

nature of

a discord

a grief

a denial

a disbelief

a convincing declarative

demise.

 

When routine begins its own culture,

the words in mind could discern as tears.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2020