Unorthodox

Each of us has a Saturday song, resting patient in our heart

It stays there, soft, anonymous -almost nary a one makes its way

Upstairs and outward it ought go, and easy it must stay

Into our head, that our ears could hear to conduct our hands and feet

Combined ethnicities and God-ward now, as it should have been

Take her, the song, into your arms, and find together, the dance

(Architecture Credit: Frank Lloyd Wright; Annunciation Greek Orthodox Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin)

Stringed

A song exists
Not yet written
Waiting to be performed
Blank sheet music pages
Stacked neatly near my soul
Rustling now
My hand swift to assure
Notes forming from the void
Lyrics beginning to choose a voice

Sweet-sad violin
A torrent of dissonance
At last, it’s final note
Wafting far and heaven-ward
What chord progression with this?
Truth gives way
From the most distant place
Near-silent to crescendo
Cello

Fluent

Piece
After
Piece
I have thrown after hope
That day might be anew

Under the microscope
Through the telescope
Yet not to the naked eye
Indeed it has
It is

Crisp, though unbleached
Comfortable, too
With a new song
In a language
I will struggle to learn, I will

Peaceful Poem

People have promised me
Twice today
With all the confidence
Of the heart of a child
With all the solemnity 
Of an old-fashioned hymn sung in unison
Everything will be
As everything ought

People, I promise you, too

Radio Off

I like others
The way they can sing
About their love
Of another
Don’t stop

I like the voice
In my head, and its pitch-perfect
Singing about
No one and everyone 
It won’t stop