30 Home

The night is night, as it should be, lidless moon and forever distant stars. I take my time. My reward is generous. Breathe in. A thousand thoughts at the doorstep of my mind. Its 7:13, and I think on you, whoever you are, intent with no distraction. I start to talk to no one present, rehearsing for a time that is not pretend. I would have liked to hear you laugh as I told you about my day, exaggerating as always, giving more details than necessary. Tonight though, is not that time, because you are a house not yet built, a blanket not yet unfolded. Mile one and two have become mile thirty, and I am almost home, but we will talk again next time.

Vancouver Island

The ferry bumps to a stop, and I make my way to the dock. I am greeted by my spectacled, balding, bearded friend. We laugh at the circumstances of my travel. He drives, and I take in the sights. A celebration awaits us later that night, and I am introduced to Race Rocks--over time this acquaintance becomes a longed for friend. The money looks different, but it makes me comfortable while I pay for my coffee at the storefront next to the bowling green. I finish a book while the sun burns me, and at intervals I gaze at the beautiful Pacific. Too many good conversations, past and present, only to realize that this is not the end of my travels.

It was a great ceremony and people left happy. We finished it out at the coffee bar down the street. I spent most of the time on the porch, talking with people who were related to me by one common bond, the region where we were born. I imagined the place as it was sung, Girl of the North Country, while I longed to hear the song about the lions. I departed the same way that I came, and took with me memories that old age will have to fight me for.

Sorrow

Alone, filled with the sound
of heartbeats. Eyes glaze over
with moisture, as a stare becomes
a longing. A wish of things that are,
and things that could be.

Twisted inside, waiting for the dawn
of night. Shouts that hang
over thoughts that are quiet.
Truly you say, and with it
I believe.

Close around me it seems,
for I see into the promise.
I am left with all that remains,
your spoken word
and my sorrow.

Clear Directions

I saw everything I needed to know in that one look.
The steps we take always lead back, and I'm calm.

Folded blanket stacked neatly as a reminder,
You must push, for my leaded feet won't budge

How many times must I look back? To remember, when
the best things are always the ones to come.

I am building our home, and soon it will be finished.
The peace from two heads on a pillow in reverie.

His hand: bigger and stronger, dextrous and able
covers the two hands holding on, against the struggles,
of this life.

No Hand to Hold

Auspicious, yet quixotic, I am carried along
Marked by the stripes of a life lived looking up
He did not have much to offer, and neither do I,
but the blood spilt testifies that some actions are
more than face value, though, few realize that.
the magic is only one aspect of the man.
Transfigured and bright blinds. Oh such a lonely life!

Yours

I am no stranger to the desires of the heart,
Nor am I unaquainted with hope deferred.

My peace has been shattered, and I can't amend.
Volcanic insides boiling to vehement climax into words,
careful words, because this forest may not grow back.

Softly I step, for I am an expert escapist, but I am caught.
What good is this feeling wrapped tightly and bound?
My instinct is to guard, but all my defenses have fled.

This sheer cliff face is a familiar place to stand and stare.
What waits below could be bliss, nirvana, full blazing light,
or it could be the death of the culmination of me.

Can I jump and risk not being suspended by you?
All other roads led to deceit, further secluding me from myself.
Where is this road leading? Overshadowed by the darkness of uncertainty.

My mind has slipped into true dream, and all things are possible.
Emotions need not be afraid anymore, but welcomed and joined with
their kindred counterpart at long last.

I will run, but this time not away, and no distance is too far.
I am at home with the moon, and all her celestial brethren.
The universe cannot inhibit me from your presence.

But I dare it to try.

Painted Over Masterpiece

I.
Secretly yearning for a complicated life, you watch
the clock tick seconds away like embers rising from the fire,
never to return again.

Unanswered questions float by like chaff taken on the wind:
Can this life be counted as something?
Or are my fingers just struggling through the motions?
In this daytime darkness, will I ever see light?

II.
A star is alone in the forever distant night, waiting and desiring.
He isn't able to touch or even learn of his coveted brethren,
He sits in his windless, cold chamber reaching out his light
to caress the face of the one he loves.

A millennium passes, and the journey ends.

The ocean pushes rivers and the rivers flow to uneven places.
The water falls into mismatched rainbows as the light smuggles its way into the mist.
Refracted beams dance their way from water to ground, and ground to sky.
Invisible but seen, the domed horizon scatters the light, as rain, back to the treetops.

The most deeply canopied forest can't keep this light away though it protects its
precious ground with phalanx strength, the battle rages, but the jealous limbs cannot hold on.
Pierced through like a calculated spear thrust, the light illuminates the moist dirt.
Just below the surface worms slowly and meticulously till the earth.
They find a buried secret screaming to be known, a lone seed.

Pushed into darkness and forgotten in existence, despair!
Enslaved to hopelessness the captive waits, a lifetime passes.
Only at the struggle of her love does freedom come.
Ground breaks and air is breathed, the two are one.
Rings mark the growth as the two loves give and receive without hindrance.

III.
Don't believe the silence in the gallery, for you are a painted over masterpiece.
Kept safe from thieves and vandals that would steal and keep you until your colors fade.
For dogs howl at the moon, because they can't accept her bright beauty, but
Bears rest under her reflected light in contemplation of the coming day,
protecting what is dear to them from the lurking lupine presence.