While Wandering Many Years

I remember,

when as a child,

I noticed for the first time,

beauty,

the sort that remained with me,

for the rest of my life.

 

Oh it came in a smile,

a long and enduring hug,

a remark

a passerby whom might notice,

or help or assist, or wonder,

rather than showing

some practiced

ignorance.

 

For many years,

I’ve wandered through doors,

often wide open, without a need,

for a knock, or a password, or a latch key,

all evidence of the freedoms

I did feel as a child,

a young teenager,

an aspiring and hopeful

adult.

 

Along the way, I discovered,

race.

 

I remember the first time, well perhaps

there were many before,

a friend of mine,

in a fit of laughter, his own,

helped to shield my embarrassment,

we were talking iconic,

a Hollywood star,

I named the wrong person,

and he chuckled and said with clarity,

‘no the other black guy.’

 

See, I’ve now wandered for years,

found many stories,

heard a lot of different controversy,

created

of course a few of my own,

and in all that time,

I look around the room tonight,

and that oyster,

that metaphor,

that penchant for society to suggest

we all own ourselves …

that responsibility,

does let me breathe I suppose.

 

Yet I want a little bit more,

so in the years ahead,

perhaps a vocal sojourn

is merited,

to show the beauty and grace,

inherent in a wonder,

in the human condition,

in the freedom,

in some spiritual reckoning,

suggests,

we do, forever,

wander together.

Stranger’s Friends

Raymond Brossard

Raymond Brossard

We waltz throughout natural rendezvous

Untethered energy allays patterned view.

Look me in the eye, do you reconcile,

We might share humanity, peace, awhile.

~

Walk past the shelter, encounter, a chance

candid when shared, a friendly glance

might in immediacy become a threat

little regard for sordid reality’s vet.

~

Common ground when once ago passion fall,

idle hands will reach, quiet, soothe the pall

of strange reckoning, a mindset ideal

to knowing, to loving, a timestamp seal.

~

For when we do imagine calm release,

Perhaps we encounter another’s peace.

~

Painting – Raymond Brossard

What Is Love?

Do you know,

I’m asking,

I need your help.

How rare to have a moment

to pause

to think

maybe imagine there are answers

outside of your comfort zone

outside of your comfort zone

outside of your usual way of thinking.

Instead of ‘you’ 

let’s talk about me,

walk inside my world

and tell me what can be seen.

Is there love?

How can we tell what love really is

when our world cries out in fear

with every opportunity 

to share ideals, to share, to love.

Love,

to me becomes quiet,

soft, a caress, a knowing smile,

an ability to allow me,

to rest, to feel assured, to know I am …

ok.

Yet, in a world

where we are constantly

always, constantly,

you know,

just kind of so constantly

reminded

we don’t belong,

In a world where hate

is honored before we can …

love!