Lived as if traveled
from place to another space.
Felt as if stricken or lost in a fading dream
Forgotten always in bliss and love-
slower and slower in gasps of hope.
A whirl and window
until a story becomes in time,
beauty at last.
Time
Roots
Rain heavy leaves
surviving the fall
spine fractured and severed high,
alive only in memory of a collective grace.
With dreams of new life budding
in leaf soaked earth,
roots nurture all of life
Mother kissed
birthing a new haven.
Saved
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.
September 2017/ cell phone photography
Florence, Italy
nights
I don’t know in the night
about corner edges and how they hurt
about who is in charge of my broken heart
breath so loud with fear
and yet no voice
tears fall fast and never seen
the space divorced from eastern light
I don’t know in the night
about me, about hope
Regarding death….
The personal threat of death looms heavy.
The air we breathe seems thick with risk.
As a physician, I live quite cautiously – very aware of biology and consequence.
At the same time I live blindly in service to a call.
So regarding my death,
I am aware of treasured moments and hope
yet also the horror of being very alone in fear…
today that will be enough.
reach
The heart grows tender only in the dark places of pain and loss
where seeds of anger die too slowly
but then reach
for the hope of rebirth
for the delicate touch of light
for a healing shower of grace and love
The Rape
Attached to this moment by a thin string pulled
by a memory my body won’t cut loose.
An uncoordinated swallow and choking breath
release head from heart.
Alone
At risk
Trust dissolved in rhythms that would otherwise heal.
The Rape
Attached to this moment by a thin string pulled
by a memory my body won’t cut loose.
An uncoordinated swallow and choking breath
released the head from my heart.
Alone
At risk
Trust dissolved in rhythms that would otherwise heal.
Brew
- Photo by Chamod Kushan on Pexels.com
Morning tea preferred
warm, gentle
Coffee every morning
powered
by enthusiasm to blend a version
of his perfection.
Everyday
Every day breathes hope from forgotten dreams
taking for granted expected miracles of awareness.
But out the door then,
without coat or cover
on to a human paced journey of doing and stuff-
an accustomed living with exposed intentions
and brokenness, storms and tantrums,
only then to circle back where a closed door shields the heart
in prayerful submission to the chill of that day’s failed ending.
