I
wish there were a Washington For every failed state, A
Jefferson or Madison To guide them through the
gate.
I wish there were a Lincoln For
those now ripped apart, A Roosevelt or Kennedy For
those that have no heart.
I wish each had the
fortune With which we have been blessed, And found
in their own founders Fit heroes for the quest.
I
wish, I wish, I wish, I wish, But such things none can
will. One can only plant the seeds And shape the
soil well.
WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOUR MOTHER IS
CRAZY
What do you do when your mother is
crazy, Hysterical, selfish, abusive, and cruel? What
do you do when really you hate her, And it's all you can do
to be distantly cool?
What do you do when you find
her repulsive, And the best of your memories are tinted with
pain? And now she is old, and needs to be near you, And
you cannot stand to be near her again?
How do you
tell her the truth when the truth Keeps accruing like some
insurmountable debt? When the horror that haunts you goes
back to a moment You cannot remember and cannot
forget?
What do you do with your love when your
love Has been buried so long that you can't find its
grave? When love for a parent lies outside a
window Through which you imagine how people
behave?
What do you do when whatever you
do Must cost more than the option you failed to
choose? For whether you turn to embrace or forsake
her, You're left with a burden you cannot refuse.
THE
SUMMER IS A DESERT BETWEEN MOUNTAINS
The summer is
a desert between mountains Lavish with the joys of spring
and fall. I look across that bleak and lonely
wasteland, Seeing no redemption there at all.
I
cannot think how I will cross without you To reach the
golden hillsides of my dreams. I try not to imagine how I'll
miss you, And not to look too hard at what that
means.
Time, the enemy of helpless lovers, Must
compensate at last those it bereaves. I cannot wait until,
once more together, We can share the blaze of turning
leaves.
EVERY MOMENT SINGS WITH
FASCINATION
Every moment sings with
fascination As silence sits behind the vivid veil. There
is no rock not rife with revelation, Nor word that will not
ultimately fail. Likewise, we are masks upon the
void, Uncreated at our empty core, Mirror of what
cannot be destroyed, The nothing that the thing is destined
for. The being of our being is delight; The nothing
of our nothing, pure perfection. Just beyond our day is
utter night; Just within our heart, its blank
reflection. The gift of life brings joy well worth the
pain; The gift of death brings us home again.
ON
PASSING AIR
On passing air One turns
around To see if any Heard the sound;
Then
moves away To vacate where Another might Inhale
the air;
And then, relieved In gut and
soul, Becomes again A wholesome
whole.
FAMILIES ARE THE GIRDERS
UNDERNEATH
Families are the girders
underneath All the brick and mortar of our
lives. Marriages will rarely end in death: In sons
and daughters long they hold their breath, Lingering far
past the men and wives, Yet heard in great-great
grandchildren's joy and grief.
WHEN I WAS YOUNG, I
THOUGHT THAT I WOULD BE
When I was young, I
thought that I would be Blessed in everything I tried to
do. I thought my dreams would probably come true. The
center of my universe was me. Ah! How beautiful it is to
see Such thoughts lie on the grass like heavy dew! How
rich the scent of all that makes life new, Each coming to
the truth eventually. Now over forty, I have had the
grace To turn and see my shadow on the earth, And
know that at the heart of me is death. No longer at the
helm, I can embrace The mystery that brought my soul to
birth, And savor the sweet silence in each breath.
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