a greater mountain

 

I could disguise the agony
beneath soft words and poetry
Speak of sudden dimmed candles
and wisps of smoke; how lives softly
In spirit drifted up, from the cruelty of this day,
and away into bliss.
It would  be wrong to do so,
these are not gentle passings.

They should have each been old and ready
to see the ends of faith, after long days, weary
after lives of love  given. They should have been
laid in soft beds surrounded by tears
At sad leavings even after so many years
Even after the four score and ten we have been promised…

They should have been old
and full of love, delicate  in fragile shells
Remembering the lovely days
in the old Charleston Church

Celebrating the ascension of their families
into greater abundance. Washed clean
in the blood of the lamb, ready
for awakening of the spirit
As the body tires and falls to rest…
They should have been nearly done
with troubles of the  world, and spent  from happiness
Ears echoing the joyful noise of praise.

They should have been
Spirits satisfied at journey’s end, welcome
My dear and faithful servants into the kingdom
They should have been here to read
This page, and hold us –safe and assured
Against a mountain of pain,
with a greater mountain of Faith.

morning whisper

Five AM cruising empty streets

a neon sign says gas is $3.09

frost begins to clear windows

as last night’s snow lifts from the hood

like a rising voice of wind.

Speed increases although one does not feel

motion-up so much as slowing down

for the color red overhead,

and possibility of 18-wheelers’

cranky starts and uncontrollable stops.

In the quiet of mind

that rises above the hum and drum,

there is a thought- held like sugar

under my tongue- of one

whose sweetness I consider

a delicacy of my time

I think of a gift ...a greatness

amidst this momentary pause called life,

and it is the smile that ends on lips

of whispers which began in my heart.

to interpret the day...

        unwind a day
Breath -weary moments remembered
weave us into webbed space,
a place of understanding.
Each sense-attached string connected to
the slightest shimmer of air

     unwind its brightness
Follows mute and gray,
coolness on face, as mornings seen
through eyes that see only me.
By a slight grip on falling sands,
time worn like a skin, I shed
an excess of self.

   unwind its purposes
There is food for a seed
the need to grow, reach for
a closer sense of the Sun.
It warms the cheek gently
yet brings near-fire to spirit
and roils currents... that lift wings