To turn the mourning to a song
To claim the weather was your choice
And all the ache a beckoned friend
To want no more than what is now
To plant the flowers among pests
And seeds of doubt in yesteryear
So then, with wisdom, kingdom come
Surprised to see the a.m. sun
The door I’d forgotten I’d opened
To remind myself I’m alive
A part of this world
Apart from this world
And out of this world, too
Anyway, first, foremost
Tending to all the green
I thought to stop, I felt ashamed
For all I’m giv’n, undeserved
But, my friend told me the currency
It’s just my shoulder
There’s nothing inherently beautiful or strong, tempting or freeing
Cool or calm about it, is there?
It’s just an offer
There’re billions of others to stand square with, befriend or lean on
Swoon over or serve with, aren’t there?
Which is better of a tree? Which is better use of me?
To speak of its presence? Saying, “How strong its solemness, standing tall, withstanding all?” Asking you to close your eyes and opine on how it could be that such a tree only sometimes sways and creaks, whilst all creatures around it move about, busily in elsewhere mode?
Or shall I show this photograph…evidencing all my skill? See here my theft of light, my manipulation of mirrors? All the while holding my breath, knowing all I’d offer you was a lie to your eye, an insult to its blessed, innate sense of depth, of dimension?
Walk we instead, up to this friend and touch, even taste its barked bend? It won’t mind! Trace your finger to its roots-there’s solemnity! Follow, follow upward eyes, leaves dancing in the wind. Shading, singing as a friend?
I remember Chicago
Who told me the pitch of my forehead to the plane of my feet was quite perfect
I, out of all the millions
You told me, was steel more strong than the skyscrapers I surrounded myself with
I believed and became
For I trusted you, and still do -you’d seen it all, and overcame, too
You were spoiling me, delivering the morning news to my doorstep
Changing headlines to all that I needed to read, nothing less
You were educating me, either that or reprogramming my heart
Carrying its weight for free, lightening the burden of beating again
You were reminding me of me, the me I was and am and cannot never be
Speaking life into an atrophied smile, why’d you die?
A fence may draw the eye, asking, will you act as friend?
What when we keep the Others out, what will that make us then?
Can’t we, won’t we alter fate of each whole soul, alike;
A fence with strong and welcome gate, a fence not stained by white.
Grieve, good man
There is no shame
Scream if you must, or sing
I’ll hold your space from afar, when you need to step away from this spinning place
I’ll be your friend when time feels like your enemy
Mourn, my sister
As has been prescribed
Cry, though with clear, bright eyes
I’ll hold your heart, when it feels much too heavy for your wondrous frame to bear
I’ll speak the name of the sorrow the world denies you know