faraways ~


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1:38 AM

he spoke
of worlds
she wandered through
but never dared admit
to knowing more
than just her way around

to listen
lest the madness come
to steal this fire away
what wish
could e’er replace
his favored star

was given name
one frigid night
when wrapped again
they dreamed
of faraways
ten thousand more
tho ne’er a one remained
as breath beyond the window
light upon the snow

mysteries remembered
to a kiss

where questions spilled
in wait for evermore
a night when he
might carry her to home

shroud in ancient
of some other
he found her there
within a wish
he made

. . .great-smoky-mountains-on-pinterest-_-tennessee-national-parks-and-___

if e’er we were loved ~


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were a glimpse
of forever
a moment too much
a sigh
(ne’er the same)
as a touch
as a whisper of longing
loosed on the night
were wings
(us surrounding)
with prisms of light
each sacred reminder
of where we have been
and the ways
back to living –
we were gifted (again)
removed from the memory
as sparse was to know
if e’er we were loved
by another (let go)
every call to redemption
was a goodbye (erased)
by the flush of
forgiveness –
delivered as grace

. . .

longer still ~


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for every time
another played –
some other passing by
a dream was I
another sweet embrace
hands betraying
whispers to the dark
promise made
was ne’er a promise come
to find the weary
lead me back
across the deep divide
recalled as one
another life denied
lead me
love me –
longer still
when moons are shining
when souls are worn
by names we never

. . .

why am I here ~


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closerhereAs of late, I’ve thought of how much I wanted to share a story, but then the same thing happened – time (or rather a lack of it) got between me and the page.

But yesterday, something happened that moved me to make the time. As I was entering the parking garage near my office after work, I heard something – a low moan. It was so sad, and in retrospect, I should have known what it was before I got there. A month or so back, a lady I work with lost her husband, quite tragically. Since then, I’ve talked with her a number of times and provided books, a full body hug, and assurance that we don’t grieve what we don’t love, yet surely love is worth the price.

She was sitting in her car with the window down and, quite literally, howling. I’m certain a number of people had come that way and been immobilized by the sight of such anguish.

It would have been easy for me to do the same. She hadn’t seen me and traffic lately has been horrendous. She would have understood. I, on the other hand, might not have. I would have reflected long after I began my drive home, on what I could have done differently.

Why am I here?

It’s such an easy question, but rarely is it easily answered. However, more and more, I find that simply posing the question can lead me to choices with little room for regret.

Regardless our place of arriving, there are truths, actions and consequences that directed our path. What I’ve come to understand that even false actions, half-truths and unexpected consequences can bring us to a place of healing, gratitude, and wisdom. Perhaps it’s a fool who believes all things happen for a reason, but I don’t mind saying that some of my greatest lessons were the result of bad decisions. In many a darkness, I have realized the light I held within – that couldn’t be lost. What I view as my real beauty are my scars, the places made stronger by the breaking.

And it is those same things that allow me the willingness to move out of the ‘receiving line’ and into the ‘giving line’. In that line, I’ve come to understand that receiving is most abundant to those unafraid to give. The measure of what I’ve lost to what I’ve gained is unparalleled. Just when I think I couldn’t possibly love more, another day comes – and I do.

Why am I here?

I’m here to make the world a little better. Even in my brokenness, I can do that. I can listen with something other than my ears and feel with something other than my checkbook. I can fill a night up with gratefulness for a moment offered only to me.

The garage was growing dark as I held her, allowing her to cry into me, the sound somehow made less by the sharing. She looked at me, smiled as tears flowed, and asked, ‘why are you here?’

‘I’m here for you. Tell me a story.’

for days before
I found you here
years without your name
to warm my lips
a prayer I couldn’t raise
was mine to speak
of pain I knew
was never mine to keep
a darker night
where once I passed
miles before you came

. . .

waltzing in silence ~


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as a waterfall
maple –
the color of love
of blood
was the believer
waltzing in silence
toes gliding so
‘cross ages
when you loved me
(I know)
the seasons
restarted –
a flower renamed
where yesterday’s
slept alone
dreaming of somewheres
another goodbye
– ways we might
wander (again)
caught in the spinning
of blushing to gold
leaves where a kiss
couldn’t go

. . .

couldn’t sing ~


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was awakened
by a dream
(pieces falling into place)
a promise
given clarity
as evermore to grace

from birth
a quest for wisdom
came questions still to ask
such pleasure
with the seeking
each mystery surpassed

and tho the house
was empty
but for birds
along the wall
they couldn’t sing
(they wouldn’t sing)
were frightened by it all

so taken by insanity
at last I knew the rest
what pages had been missing
returned as consequence
when someone chose for others
what each should choose alone
would take you there
if mine to do
would gladly bare you home

I couldn’t sleep
the hours passed
as shadows rearranged
what longing knew
his away around
(truth I wouldn’t change)
always here
I see that now
I’d looked for
somewhere else
was sleeping on my pillow
searching for myself

was always here
(I wonder)
of moments
now recalled
did I share this fate
with breakfast
what nightbird strained
to call
who watched me
from a distance
storied arms
too weak to fight
taken down
forsaken paths
in shadows of the night

approaching dawn
was tennessee
out beyond my fears
papered birds now gather
these sacred psalms
to hear

. . .