A story lives in the shape of things
words in the walls
left unspoken or unheard.
A memory in the feel of the air
blowing through time
trapped in a trinket or touch.
A heart holds tight with a tear or a smile
enchanted
in the wisps and wonder
of lover speak.
Restless for the air outside
in the light of un-stained glass.
I count my breath to calm my spirit with
doors closing and hushed children.
Invocation then
to dreams and freedom
away from pretense and prose,
Amen.
Barely awake with tangled thoughts
around hurt
around pain
reaching around
for the energy of presence
Morning tea preferred
warm, gentle
Coffee every morning
powered
by enthusiasm to blend a version
of his perfection.
The memory soaked moment
unwanted
stains
glass windows of prayer
Can you read without listening to the words?
Can you see without hearing thoughts?
Ignorance protects.
Love opens.
Time to bow to the listening side of our hearts.
Bags in hand
carried out
up front with doors shut
seated for the daily performance
Invariable anxiety
among the hosted caravan
some more polite than others.
Mirrors shoulder high
from the corners reflecting
the auburn and pink rising
behind and brightly announcing
the commuting of the day.
Hearing something ahead
songs of those with voices only
nothing to touch though reaching deep
Fearing the fall
knowing nothing but the view
of love from inside out
in this place.
The mountains hug forgotten ones
Souls known in gestures centuries old.
Wonderfully wild and high enough
where clouds can wet their tears and soften edges
All in breathless upward climb in rhythm find
a peaceful soul
and a memory, union sweet.
Then falling down in gasps of fear darker turns and twists
My footing gone
the mountain moves
in outward reach
– embrace.
To know the beat of waves in rhythm
stripping, striking stone to sand
gasping breath and fear together
pushed and pulled in chords of love.
