In The Swirl of Moments

Now older, your dark hair turned to light,
Your mind and words, sometimes, turn back on older days.
I see you, lost in remembered joys:
When you felt powerful, and the world was open wide.
Perfectly beautiful, complete in yourself,
You can’t disguise how much you feel you’ve lost.
I did not know you in those days;
The Venns of our lives had not yet overlapped.

We willingly trade the things we love
To aid the people we love,
But that does not mean the process is
Without grief; nor does it lessen
The good of the present.
Vanity is air: not really there, in some ways,
But totally necessary;
Love is like water: surrounding and
Caressing us.

I look at you, across this swirling warm pool,
Eyes closed, mind of former days, and think:
My love, you are still so beautiful, so strong:
And while there’s much we must let go of,
Never let go of what makes you

You

Filling Station

Once
A woman and her husband
Stopped at this place

She, eight months with child
He, thinking about walking out
And the drive had been a tense one
Old wounds reopened
Fresh hurts on display

And an old couple was there
At the same time
Laughing while they pumped gas
They asked her when the baby was due

She said, “One month.”

The old man asked her husband
“Are you excited?”
“Nervous,” was the reply

“Don’t be. Just remember:
Loving someone
Who loves you back
Is the greatest thing in the world.
And your child
Will love you back.”

Forty-eight years later
The woman is no longer young
She stands at this abandoned place
Her young granddaughter in tow.
“What is this place?” the little girl asks

This place?
This is where your grandaddy and I

Decided to stay in love


 

(“Filling Station” – 8-15-2014)

A Hope

The first time that I saw her there
I had to kind of catch my breath —
To fall so hard seemed so unfair:
Another day, another death —

But then I saw her looking back:
The days came wild, I lost track —
A look that turned into a life,
And hope that turned into

A wife

… how close the far away

Across the room a wooden table
Yellow tea lights flicker
The night is gathering her dress
To go amid the stars

And we in silence find abundance
Through the skylight glowing
As shadows dance across the bed
And every sound is ours

For we are physical and mental
Full emotions churning
And yet are centered to our core
To lie among the still

And see the lights of years ago
By our few candles burning
To feel how close the far away
Can be when we just will

Neon

She shines like neon,
Colorful,
Reflected on
The city streets

She sounds like rhythm,
Audible,
The feet that move,
The heart that beats

    She’s still the light that guides me home,
    The reason that I love the night;
    A better kind of power, that
    Makes sun seem tame, and rain seem right —

She tastes like neon,
To the eyes
That find no shining
Through the throes,

When at the end
Of this much day,
The sky may dark,
But still —

She glows

A Special Privilege

This place is warm and feels like home,
Each thing reminds me of her;
I have a special privilege –
It is my job to love her

The last few days, I’ve had a cold,
She had one just last week;
The autumn season juggernaut’s
Left little time to speak

But I go in the other room,
She’s reading in our bed;
My voice is shot right now; but there’s
Not much that needs be said

There’s cold and dusk out of these doors,
The day’s last light will perish:
I have a special privilege –
For she is mine
To cherish