Lighting the path beyond,
the moon leans toward a fate larger than death,
the eastern sun bullied by looming clouds of day.
Life speaks daily in the rise and fall–
hope wrapped in even the darkest morn.
Morning Moons
Maternal
Not thinking much about god these days,
trapped in stone and stained glass.
Though everywhere I look
tangible, take your breath away visions
most often
strong, nurturing and wise
like a Mom.
Refraction
Time bends moist moments
into pain
birthing
refractions
of shallow hope
with life lines into tomorrow
Turns
Driving into the sun
left of center
Grace escaped
time beyond the rhythm
regret
Deep breath
hope
Speeding life beyond imagination
Days of Fathers
for Michael
Silent
Strong
Edges and borders
Marking love like a destination.
The grey in between, though, soft and caring.
Big-Brother-Like
birthed in so much softness
trained now to guard
the soul of hearth and home.
Winter
coat white outside
layered over
inside
lost in a season
incognito
buried in the hope
rooted within
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
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.
Origins
Only so many heartbeats said a man-
trusting scarcity somehow to direct a life.
But daughters
hold treasured seeds of grandma’s eyes and DNA
inside their wombs not yet full
and they dance.
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