Our Pedestal

If whenever we reach out to one another

really ask to be noticed,

without using words,

just the simple expression of our eyes,

cannot tears alone provide the answer,

will we only allow ourselves to feel compassion

at the heels of natural pain, long after the actions

of hurtful angst have knocked us off our feet.

Our pedestal

We live by sight,

in glamour, prestige, adorned in history,

that broach she wore just the other night,

could representĀ a Victorian amulet seen only by

the rarest eyes.

Those looks, those moments of judgment

we today might never know,

yet will still emulate to the best of our ability.

We could be a society of fakirs,

misrepresenting ourselves to feel like yesterday

has been brought back to life.

What if for a moment instead of finding the correct linens,

of knowing the proper stance,

of elocution and charming dialect,

what if we’d rather just be the person we are,

and stand before that moment without trying

to be what we are not and may not ever be.

What if just alone,

a compassionate human being

… if love we begin to share our ware.

If Only He Might Follow Me




If only,

I might begin to understand,

he would follow me,

I would certain traverse the land,

to be sure,

he might follow me.

If only

in the world ahead of us all,

we could predict

when just before the fall,

what energy, what source of nature,

could give us hope,

could allow us to maybe find peace.

I gaze upon a world I little understand,

beyond the beauty of landscape and freedom,

that freedom is the land I would seek,

to know the truth,

to recognize in a bold, austere fashion,

that in our dignity,

I could choose a stance,

he might recognize, perhaps cherish,

knowing I have protected him,

with loyal abandon of any obstacle.

If only in his pain,

he might see ahead what I can see.

If only he might follow me.