Because it deserves a decent home.
Scatter your love to the winds,
Let it travel deep and wide;
Up the hils and down the dales,
Cross the highest mountainside
Let your love be pure and strong,
North or south or east or west:
Scatter your love to the winds,
Let it find its place
To rest
Some people say that where they are
Is where they’re meant to be;
For years, I never understood –
Those comments puzzled me
Sometimes, you’re down and desperate,
As I was, long ago:
I saw no reason at the time
Why it needs must be so
For almost thirty years ago
I tried to end my life;
I never would have known my kids
My grandchildren, my wife –
I never would have typed these words
That you are reading now;
I would have been a nobody,
A nothing. A no how —
I couldn’t find a reason,
Couldn’t generate a spark
To see me through the nightscape;
Through the hopeless, whirling dark
But somehow, day led on to day;
And I regained my voice.
Then I decided living
Was my only living choice
I do not know where you might be,
How your life’s filled with pain;
I do not know the grief you’ve felt,
And that, I will not feign —
But this I tell you, reading friend:
There is, most times, a light:
So you can climb the hill ahead,
And fear
No more
The night
(“Nightscape” – 7-1-2015)
let not hope disappear
though chill be in the air:
the winter may be here,
but the garden is
still there
They heard the music playing,
so followed them the tune:
The mystic ocean symphony
a soothing bit of harmony
communing with their souls —
they needed to commune.
And though poor in materials,
they found a way to go:
For truly rich, and truly deep
are memories we make to keep,
like echoes in the shoals —
and finding space to grow.
There is a love that joins us,
And there are hearts that feel;
There’s beauty in simplicity,
And making good things real.
And though we slump or cower
Beneath our load of care,
We each can hear the music,
Because it’s always there…
They found a chance for freedom,
so took it when they could:
And though imperfect all we are,
‘twas worth some hours in the car
to give up their old goals —
and bask in something
good
We call things ‘mixed’ as though
they don’t belong together;
this is strange.
All that is
belongs together, for
here we are,
together.
Or maybe…
We call them ‘mixed’ because
they come from different places, but
everything is from
a different place from everything else —
it’s just a matter of
how far apart.
Such mixture as there is
brings all the flavor;
such togetherness as we can manage
makes the experience of it possible.
So, sure, we are mixed:
Mixed up,
Tossed around,
Cooked together, and
Delicious
For holidays, and hidden ways,
For shorter goes and longer stays,
For time reflecting only breath,
For flowers named Elizabeth,
For every moment felt in joy,
Adventure spent, and girl-meets-boy,
With gratitude we lift and know
How good things are, when they
Are so
Tell me who I am, and I’ll tell you
About the kind of world you long to see:
A wonderland beyond expectancy,
Where what is good, and beautiful, and true
Can find a home, or sit beneath the stars
Like fireflies turned loose at last from jars.
Tell me what you’ve learned, and I’ll show you
The hope you once thought you had left behind;
To be alike, is to be of a kind
Of world that we could make or form anew —
So come and swim the galaxy with me,
For to belong is to be truly
Free
