Looming Anniversary

I originally came to complain
To cry so silent here that just my Creator could make sense of this outpouring
This graffiti-papered grieving
To tell the sky what it already knows
My disdain for the wafting scent of muscle on the backyard grill next door
My need for mercy for the muscle and might ripped from my chest
To scream to the sky of this guy, who took
And took
And took what I gave readily — easily — from love
And kept, and refused to acknowledge was gifted to him
Yet looming, this anniversary, I can neither complain nor cry
After all
For all the love letters
Eternal
Penned by lovers, that, too, paper and letter the sky
And God gave a garden and set my eyes
That I would see
Gardens of flowers for me

Your Door: A Poem to My Son

Such is the challenge
To behold a door
To sense all it leads to
While not grieving more

To know if it’s opened
The Divine has willed
To praise, when it’s closed
His providence, still

Forth, amble with purpose
Or wait night and day
But ask for The Blessing
God’s presence, to stay