once I thought these stories important
wrapped them around me
dazzling jewels a means to hide
now I walk more in silence
trailing memories from my fingers
dry leaves of yesterday turning to dust
soon I will be gone
Category: grief
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Shadow Town (Poem)
ghosts of yesterday linger in alleys
spirits of might have been drift through streets
shards of broken dreams glint on sidewalks
tatters of abandoned hopes hang in storefronts
we could have gathered all to eat real food around a common table
chose instead for some to feast and others beg
found acceptable for those who have
to laugh in derisive disregard at those who lack
indeed to deny them room in any stable
those all being filled by brass calves
soon to be paraded out by fools as gold
and children starve
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The Ghost Of The Bonefire (Poem)
the scent of smoke lingers in the alley
the restaurant has been gone for awhile
the owner saw the writing on the wall
shiny dollar signs scrawled by new money
incomers remake the town into their own image
wealth management firms with financial planners
luxury sports with concierge golf
rooftop bars with small plated precious food
soon they’ll build themselves a place of worship
inside will be a golden calf
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“Children Want To Work Without Lunch Breaks” (Poem)
(The title is a quote from a U.S. State-in the Deepest South-Delegate)
these new gods, deities of flash and cash
delight in human sacrifice as they stride across the world,
our backs their stepping stones, our faces to the ground.
we sing in worship, songs shouting possession;
we groan in pain, cries seeking recognition.
both go unheard by the hard indifferent dirt
and the gods pay no heed at all.
why should they, made in our image?
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Every Day I Miss Him (Poem)
he saved me from desperation
train trestle desolate water razor edge
perhaps discerned, I never knew
he called me over to join him
warm smile and gentle handshake
such generous welcome brought tears
he nodded, “it’s okay to cry”
we talked about childhood pain and getting old
he died, and I mourn that I never told him
he died, and I mourn that he is not here
he died, and I will always rejoice
that I knew him as a friend
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Obituary (Poem)
he died. he was killed. he killed himself.
his face so gentle when he gazed towards the world
steeled in judgement when he turned towards the mirror.
perhaps. we don’t know for certain, for no one came to tell us
their hands filled with grief, the overflow of tears
all we can see is the holes that appeared in our quotidian walk
smiles not given, kindnesses not done, bits of sparkle and joy gone missing
mourn if we want and for a time, but better would be
once we notice a gap, think how to fill it anew
he left his heart here, I know
it shines in your eyes my eyes and the eyes of us all
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All We Can Do (Poem)
because the tidal overwhelm of war remains,
and women cry until they have no voice
and orphaned children die in cratered streets
and everywhere men kill other men because they can.
I sit with my back straight and become glass.
all the grief of the world washes through me
and through you, a darkened ink of light.
we breathe. all we can do.
because the common squabble of life constantly rains,
and this one accuses that one over something
and words become harsh here there everywhere
and bitterness becomes ordinary coin.
I carry kindness in my pockets to give away
as do you, little bits of good to see us through the day.
we smile. all we can do.
we all do what we can. that is all we can do.
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Where We Live (Poem)
our home is a burning house,
a dying land, and a flooding sea.
we cling to blackened images,
throw our children into holes,
and think that we can swim.
we disregard the charred remains,
ignore the poisoned ground,
and turn our faces to the sky.
we wave and smile at the birds in the air,
as they kettle and soar.
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Estrangement (Poem)
does it matter that the morning sky
shades the deepening purple of a bruise,
the dark hue I saw in her eyes
just before she knocked me to the floor?
does it matter that I think the moment beautiful
when the clouds lower to cover night’s regret,
the sigh she would follow with a kiss
before she told me that nothing really happened?
does it matter that I do not care for the sun’s bright light
because she threw me into the shadows?
it does not, not at all.
I was born in the darkest hour.
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Burst (Poem)
from behind the grey steel bars he gave his heart to the sky
untethered without any strings not even the faint thread of hope
it burned there for a time brighter than the atomic sun
shining with all the many dreams he gathered
the stories we told him the lives we wished for our children
like him with no official warning-
though we all knew this would happen
it died with one final burst of light
the soldier’s bullet that passed through it
cried in futile sorrow as it fell to earth
the tattered shreds of our destroyed future
drift through the clouds