Saturday, January 5, 2019

Threads














There is a fearfulness,  a weighty dread that every eye avows --
These windows where the grotesque and the beautiful congeal,
This conduit into the souls of creatures, from beast to beatific,
Where photons flung from nebulae, perch after having taken wing.
Through science or strange alchemy, this tangle of endless string,
Inweave stories, hopes, despairs, loves, both lovely and morbific,
And reflecting, transformed, from the soul's mirror, now reveals,
A longsuffering longing for the farther in, that none would disavow.

There is a felicity, a lightness in being that every voice confesses--
These unbidden yips, or meows, or giggles, unclouded utterances,
Reverberate throaty, as ancient dormant atoms, drafted now dance,
In cacophonies of herds or flocks, or in choirs terrestrial or angelic.
Through the mundane or in mystery, this fanfare waxes evangelic,
These unscripted joyous worship to graces, offer a slanted glance,
Into the liturgies of love crafted in the dawning and in deliverances,
Unyielding call and response that the real is beautiful and blesses.

There is a fearfulness,
There is a felicity,
There is,
I am that I am.


Thursday, June 7, 2018

Four Years
















Darling, I remember the glow within my soul,
And how it answered the glow upon your face.
Those awkward messages, sent with no regret,
Too old to be innocent but not too old for grace,
Friendship, love, overtook my wooden walk,
Alive again, I gazed into your beatific face.

How quick the years paper over miracles,
Why do the angels shyly retreat in shades?
Yea- Christ himself in death and resurrection,
In our mundane, in simple sacrament invades.
The dust of the quotidian dulls the revelation,
Yet the sacrament in kiss reborn-cascades.


Darling, I know now that love's roots deepen,
Each sunrise a longing for life within your eyes,
As my human frame, not quite still life, wilts,
My heart and soul-both young and old-in sighs
Of joying and pining. My place with you, home-
Renita Grace. Our lives in love, arise, arise, arise.

Found
With you,
Four Years.

The Alchemy of Being


Where shadows pool, and seep into this place,
As the yearly thaw will raise the river waters,
So dark settles where feet pain to keep apace,
Then soon entombed in the depth of shadow
Where colors fail, there features are effaced,
Penumbra.

Where shadows wane, as river bank erodes,
As the seasons gnaw land, wood and stone,
So light bespeckles dark in lilacs and mauves,
In time, a plethora of hues and forms renewed,
Loom, where love beholds features and faces,
Aurora.

Where shades and light entwine within a soul,
As the seasons repaint the canvas of the world,
So in blues and greens and yellows and reds,
In veils of cloud or branch, the light is pearled,
A lifetime where wisps and shades, each soul,
In a bark of skin, the alchemy of being unfurls,
Salvation.




Tuesday, February 14, 2017

The Economy of Love





















This marble world of stones and pools,
O'er every land, the divine image bearers,
In creeds of both Saints and of sinners,
Rise to conquer for such paltry treasures,
Which fire the economy of greed and war,
Paying returns in tears and crimson rivers,
Of death.

This mid-aged man, losing his steady lead,
O'er the shadows, yet the divine image lifts,
His steps. And a lonely heart is ever young,
Through the eyes of she whose eyes are gifts.
Her heart harmony, within her lovely frame
The sound moves me, as a fresh wind shifts,
Creation.

This marble world of broken-hearted places,
With all the rest, I screamed against the night,
'Til a day like the first day, all the world is new,
As sight, and touch, even the color of the light.
The currency of sacrament in the economy of love,
Is the grace of her embrace raising me to heights,
Of life.

Renita,
My wife,
I am,
Ever yours.


Friday, December 30, 2016

Bones of the Earth











The bones of the earth protrude,
Wounding fleshy fibrous loam,
The forms of eras, once teaming,
Jutting jarringly where we roam,
Beautifully resistant, ever hewed,
In wind,
In water.

The breath of the sky, day to day,
Gnawing the backbone mountains,
Through eras - 'ere the elan of life.
In lifetimes of spirits rock gives way,
Kneaded in numberless gust of rains,
In silhouette,
In symmetry.

Below the bony peaks endless quills,
Stabbing, cutting the fabric of wind,
Which howls a holy haunting hymn.
The forests of firs and pines pinned,
The earthen skin, splits stony skeleton,
In roots,
In recesses

The bones of the earth protrude.

Friday, December 23, 2016

One Mother















Your life upon the loom, your heart upon the wind,
We wonder in awe, attending your life's tapestry.
The colors of your days and loves are the whole.
Memories woo hot tears that run down our cheeks.
Your sweet life poured out like water from a bowl,
Yet in love and in hope your days are not a vanity.
Though you are still, your light has not dimmed.
Mother.

Teaming crimson threads inweave your lavish love,
Your children, grands, all in your covering prayers,
Violet strings combine every stitch, in warp and weft,
As your faith formed you, then we, in this cloth of life.
Your sweet spirit in your last breath, through a cleft,
Loosed. Healed and whole you climbed celestial stairs,
Though in sorrow, you with Saints and Seraphs above.
Mom.


Board games, camping, and scrambled eggs,
Ginger bread and cream, chili con carne, 
Cherry pie, lemon pie, apple pie, any pie,
Evenings of popcorn, and home movies.
Big warm hugs, but ripped off band-aids,
Lighting speed mid-air bee or wasp slicer.
Late night at the bedside tending a fever.


The green threads attest your heart was fully alive,
Robust as a tree and as fragile as a young bloom,
Your nurturing love ever soaking each life in prayer.
This space you've left, though wilted, still blossoms.
Your absence invites us to extend your love and care,
As we weave our lives from yours upon the loom,
With you, alive in God and in his Christ, will thrive
Mommy.

Your life upon the loom,
Your heart upon the wind,
So recently threadbare,

Now higher up and farther in,
Your tapestry complete.
Healed,
Whole,
Beloved.





Saturday, September 24, 2016

Aubade















A fire is kindled in endlessness space,
Where the weight of elements condense,
Nebular trees sprout conflagrant spheres,
O'er aeons and ages tumbling light-years,
As gift of  gold, myrrh, and frankincense,
A hearth to a handful of worlds in grace.

Fusion fires and flares, expelling darkness,
Limbs of light, over every spinning globe,
As blessings radiate infrared to ultra violet,
Canvassing ever land, piercing every eyelet,
The trail of King Sol, an ever widening robe,
Painting a blue horizon, otherwise starless.

Under, above, through, and beyond there was,
And is, and is to come, such - the notes of light,
Where orbitals and symphonies entwine, and be,
And stars pierce, like dandelions infest the lea,
Each fusion interrupting the monopoly of night,
Sustains all that can be seen and known in the laws,
Of love.