I used to think I was alone
here within myself
alone in my struggle to be
to be . . .
Shame is shit
From toddlerhood we are taught
to hold it, control it, to flush it into oblivion
Yet, try as we might
we are never free of it . . .
How can I walk unhurried through the buzz-clang-flash of a pinball world
Take a calming breath in anger’s face and spy the fear beneath
Be the steady rainbow over someone’s troubled waters . . .
My heart’s wound is an old old story /
It chatters in the background day and night . . .
I am from cotton hand-me-downs, hemmed to fit, / From Carnation powdered milk / And big biscuit Nabisco Shredded Wheat. / From racing and yelling, “I’LL GET IT!” / Whenever the black rotary phone rang…
Feather on the Breath of God
tiny feather, downy white
tucked under the wing
of mother dove
close to her breast
near to her heart
warm and safe
hidden, obscured . . .
Let us remember and lay to rest
a creature so compliant
that she took the rules
and swallowed them whole
creating her own iron maiden
One of the stranger stories of the Bible is about Jacob wrestling with an angel. Apparently, this patriarch spent all night wrestling with an angel, saying, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” . . .
Dreams can be so weird. Other times so meaningful. And occasionally, both at the same time . . .
In the dark stillness comes a chirp, a trill
And in the background always the low rumble and growl of the city
The sky gently lightens to misty aqua over glowing gold . . .