January 28, 2014


Without tears we are no one, without tears we are lost, lost in a world in which we cannot exist. I enter that world to bargain and resist; I enter to scheme, to lie, and live as a thief; stealing the wetness from another’s cheek, in shadows I am there, remorse, overcome with tears of grief.

I live with stolen tears, these tears for you I cry. I carry them into my dreams; to live in hopes my soul to die.  For this I find regrets for stolen passions; never to return, never to repeat what was once a stolen kiss, a tear, a touch, a fear, remorse for life’s lost actions.

Tears shine with infinite secrets, entering the now, to the surface, and then find themselves lost in grey shadows, dark shadows to come; giving me away to the essence of the now, the hereafter; with or without you, we become one.

My tears, I will look for you, look after you, I will give you away, kiss you away, touch you away; always and forever, today.  

I will surrender these tears shed with love, with care, within the fervor of the now. I will survive, I will live, I will do all that I can for these tears, somehow.

January 24, 2014

Don’t Look Back

I stand on the crest of the hill, overlooking the sea...crashing, crashing; waves; come unto me..!!  The wind replies; distinct sounds...a rumble, a whistle, screeches and howls!  Limbs crack, snap, calling me back.  My soul, my soul!  

The old house hears, yes it hears; to speak, to groan and then a moan, an echo to be sure, to a voice:  Is anyone home!?  The old house beckons, destruction appears, the waves cannot sway; Come here, come near, nearer, and I will speak:  Out of my way!

My foot slips and slides, catching a branch, breaking the fall.  Close, closer, almost there; waves sigh:  Almost, almost caught, almost to die!

Streaming, screaming, howls the wind:  Do not touch the soul’s dead skin!  Numbing, numbed by cold, long lost the sounds, the winds of old.  Buried deep, deeply into the sea; waiting, watching, harkening:  Come unto me!

Slivers of ice, broken, sharp, drop from the sky; winds take the twisted, driving them down and down…drawing lines in the sky, pockmarked designs:  Everyone pines. 

Wind, oh wind look how it sales; look up, look up, glancing arrows, frozen air, sling them aside:  Speak into the crowd:  No wailing aloud!

Little did I know, the earth drew, sucked in the fire, little did I know the flames drew without tire. How did I know, why would I care?   Only you can speak the words I desire; only you would know; only you can share.

Scraps of skin cling to the shards; I walk away, feet into yards; the temptress may be stalking, I'm blind and cannot see. Step back; step back, away from the sea.

January 11, 2014

The Shoal

What to do, what to do? The silhouette of harshness insinuates my nights. I see it, and then I don't. It's real but not. What to do, what to do? Making the same mistakes where it comes to you. Do I stay, do I go? I wish I knew I wish I knew.

Silence, silence, harsh silence becomes my wall. What to do, when the enemy once again invades my space; in night thoughts again to retrace. 

Close my eyes so I can see. Close my eyes so I can be. In night you call to me. Open my eyes, I look at me. I stop, I'm blind.  Close my eyes let me be. 

I missed the mark, I sailed on by. The race isn't mine, why do I try? Tired, tired of trying, I don't know who I am, why am I lying?

It was raw; it was exposed, harsh and open, I was afraid.
Letting go, not knowing the outcome; setting myself adrift in a lifeboat to go aground; I was lucky. I was found.

January 3, 2014

The Long Walk Home

A whistle down the lane, a rumble on the track, in evening light wheels clickety-clack.  Down the rails, turning thunder, wheels cross the plains, sights of wonder.  The long ride home, brushed with sage, where oak leaves wither, heaven aged; little did I know, through the canyon walls and tunnels deep, never ending in the nights black, a long ride home would bring me back.  

Snows come down, in drifts of deep, a lone wolf calls but cannot sleep. White, whirling in the sky, ends this ride, with the long walk home, away from a whistle’s cry.