Emergence

At winter’s end, comes awakening call,

Arise, arise, friends and all.

Tis time to stir, to shake out mist,

Your faces blurred from season’s kiss.

Reach out your arms, to grasp the light,

Your bodies to strengthen, renew their might.

Let hands present, your fingers splay,

Stand tall, in splendor to salute the day.

Your arrival conceived, rebirth in mind,

First of season, your status defined.

With grace and poise, aligned at will

Emerge to us, treasured Daffodil.

Control

That sound you hear,

Assailing left ear,

Strong; it’s power compelling.

Be it spirit voice,

Or mindset choice,

Answers already indwelling.

For your struggle within,

Borne of chagrin,

Control the fixated issue.

Do not to deny,

Nor cast evil eye,

The fear begins with you.

To love without chains,

It only remains

To face the demon inside

Accept that your foe,

Is one that you know,

Stop controlling; learn to abide.

Ode to False Perfection


Mr. Perfect arrives, exquisite Ms. Ideal, by his side,

See how they stand, such flawless poise,

No sound of dissent, not one single noise.

They sashay cross the floor, in symphonic stride,

A nod here, a smile there, as they greet false fans,

While waving their sanctimonious hands.

As if in review, no hair out of place,

All lessor beings must bow low to their stature,

Hiding the fact, that we all see the fracture.

As I turn to observe their opposite face,

Glaring vision attacked my eyes,

I’ve never imaged pants with rear flies.

A chuckle I buried, if just to save grace,

Mr. Perfect waddled, bowed legs were a sight,

Ms. Ideal no better, her brown trail a blight,

As they pranced toward the door, in regal fashion,

I thought to myself, my sins no greater,

Then those who would judge to call me a hater.

So I say unto those who wish to cash in,

Keep your nose to the sky,

Kiss my ass, that’s my passion.

No Sin Was Mine.

Tranquility reigns as the night air of spring descends,

I sit, alone, immersed in the bouquet of the woodlands.

My thoughts, unladden with harbinger of danger,

In serene contemplation, only melodies of night denizens to abide.

 

Moon’s reflection, a golden path across still waters of the lake,

As if to bid me come hither, walk gilded lane, no sorrow awaits.

Silhouette of lonely loon traverses, his mournful calls unheeded,

I listen, no substance, forlorn, only emptiness beside.

 

My companions only night creatures, diligent in their quest,

Do they wonder at strange creature in their midst?

Wisps of white clouds, wraithlike schooners race the night,

What reward their goal, silver cup to win?

 

As I watch wonders abounding, sorrow memory became,

Serenity, like mist from the lake, surrounds me.

My hunger, once thirst for ending,

Now appeased, I did not sin.

No Tears for Tomorrow

Alone I trudge unbeaten path,

Head bowed low, fraught with sorrow.

As I wander, lost in time,

I’ll cry my tears tomorrow.

Each new day, I face the sun,

Longing for an answer.

Was I right, was I wrong,

Eating me like a cancer,

Imperfect thoughts on troubled sea,

Reasons beyond my reach.

Cavernous desire, the need to learn,

That which life had failed to teach.

Sad memories alone do linger,

Gratification but mere dust.

But I will go on, to do my best,

To learn of love and trust.

At days end, I will face my fears,

Erase my sorrows,

I’ll stand tall, shouting out to all,

I’ll cry no tears for my tomorrows.

Sins of the Child

S

Today my heart wept

Pierced by a vision

My conscience impaled

I grieved in silence

Blue eyes cried in fear

Tears no shield to pain

Child’s face alone

Amid mass transience.

Hollow voices stilled

What sin did commit

Facades downcast

No cries from the throng.

As scimitar fell

Past knowing smile

Released from doubt

He knew them wrong.

No sin this child

Nor fault he own

Pain is gone

His pew a throne.

  • Dedicated to an unnamed, fourteen-year-old Christian boy murdered by ISIS.

Hawk Stone

A True Story of Mitakuye Oyasin

One afternoon, returning from an appointment, as I was driving west on Delmar Boulevard, close to Old Bonnehomme Road in Clayton, MO., a Red Tail hawk swooped down in front of the car ahead of me. This is not an uncommon occurrence in Missouri but for it to happen on a busy street at the beginning of rush hour was unusual. Unfortunately for the hawk, he was not careful enough to avoid the car and was struck.

The car that hit the hawk kept going as if nothing happened. As I got close enough, I stopped my car, out on the emergency lights and got out to see if there was anything I could do. Tragically, the injuries sustained by the hawk were massive, and he appeared to be dead.

Having work gloves in my car, along with small, plastic garbage bags, I set about picking the hawk up to transport him to the wild. As I slowly picked him up, one talon grabbed onto a flat stone and locked it in place. It was almost as though he was clinging to life but failed.

I tried to remove the stone, but it was as tough complete rigor mortis had rapidly set in, and I could not remove it. Taking this as a sign, I brought the body home and amputated both talons and a few feathers which I preserved. The remainder of the body, I took out to Creve Couer Park, near the Missouri River and returned it to the wild.

Since that day, I sense I have a connection to a power greater than myself.

I feel my eyes opened to the true meaning of Mitakuye Oyasin.