“You are what your deep, driving desire is."
You may not know
the answers you seek.
You may not live
from your heart out.
But you do know
that you wish to be happy
and you know
self-honesty and
self-being
are your ways.
Wish to know
your hidden spirit.
Wish to live
your heart calling.
Then you will be
who you must be.
Then you will live
you for others.
Each day we strive for self and home
to make our lives complete.
But on one day, a coming day,
our hearts for others beat.
It is a day we know as Christmas
that we wish happiness for others.
As this day comes we act from love
and think and do, one for another.
And if once a year we can do so much
what about the remaining days?
Could we not do one for all
and give each other praise?
On this coming day, this day of hope
I wish each of you happiness
for each day you live this coming year
and I wish for you to be blessed.
An endless season starts.
We all feel it’s demands.
No one an island
as the season grips us all.
Not all who begin
will see it close.
For reasons unknown
it swoops erratically.
Within the brackets of this time
humanity is afraid.
Exposed, vulnerable, and screaming
at this season of fear that invades.
Our new bravery
demands we say, “We’re fine,
illness cannot happen here.”
…and then it does.
This season will cost much
but raise hope
until, together again,
we enter the season of thanksgiving.
I am that little boy
hiding behind the woodpile
with his dog, crying.
I am that little girl
in front of the mirror
with her doll, broken.
We are the children
who only wanted
to be loved, but weren’t.
We played superheroes
so no one would harm us
except you, and you did.
We wanted to be cared for
maybe loved
but never ignored, which you did.
We learned to “be seen and not heard”
and are that still
because we don’t know how to love.
A smile, a hug
maybe “I love you”
would have helped the child
you didn’t see.
I walked away
from people who cared.
Long of leg and sure of foot
I swathed the sidewalk clear.
My spirit lived one hundred feet
in a pit that deepened.
Walled face, brick by brick
blocked another’s entry.
A dark reflection, mine,
I won’t look, I scare myself.
Why do I stride so fast?
To prove I exist but don’t matter?
A face comes that knows me.
Quick, duck. This store will hide me.
Danger passes but I wish
that someone chased me, just once.
Pause.
No one pursued again.
A friendly voice is faster
than racing legs that want to stop.
No one called.
Walk until…
The bell nailed on the house.
Distant laughter of screaming children.
The two would soon be one
as a wrinkled hand
grabbed the chain
and whipped it furiously.
Pavlov’s dog re-imagined
in the speedy response to lunch
the bell demanded.
Parents ring and are ignored.
Grandma rings a command.
How can children tell
grandma’s touch?
With what power
does she whip the clapper?
This bell, a magic bell,
from grandma’s heart to theirs,
a ringing bond of love.
The bell mounted on our wall
it’s work of calling wayward children
is over, except for the memories.
Adult children tear up
when they visit
and remember fondly
grandma’s call.
Silent now the bell vibrates
waiting for the next round of grandkids.
Who is it I am?
And because I don’t know
how do I find out
who I am
and what I’m to do?
I look at the bounty
of those I would be like
and know I am meager
of self and belongings.
Take a step forward?
But the cliff is there
reminding me there’s nowhere
to put my foot down
without falling.
It is the fall I fear,
the great unknowing.
I am my own
but wishful tendrils remain
of the safe life
I once had.
Resolute, I close my eyes,
reach out with a foot
and step,
fearing the fall
but fearing more to stay.
Life, you are mine,
catch me.
Above the clouds and higher still
in wing-ed thought I fly.
The world a speck and smaller still
light lost in darkening sky.
To some a street, others a tunnel
the answer now I know.
Strange familiar is all around
a scent of home long left.
A comforting touch, spirit to mine
guides me to the Creator.
I tried to bow but not allowed
without taking all of heaven with me.