The Point of Culmination


Zenith

What is it?
this struggle that
keeps me awake
pondering my existence

Asking all who would listen
the question of our
lacking human capacity
for listening with our hearts,
speaking with our Higher Soul

This day I breathe
(listening to the ebb and flow of my life’s blood)

This hour I restrain
(myself from losing grip on perception)

This moment I succumb
(and lose it anyway – finding a whole new way to see)

The answer was always
obvious and poignant

Without one
how can we know the other?

We will always choose

To select the highest stars
while sitting in the pits of our broken selves.
Broken

Boxes


Happy Father’s Day, Daddy…. You’re very missed.

Danced with grief
and you

Healing chose to neglect me-
same day they lowered you in your
little box
‘neath cold Alberta clay

Numb with guilt
I remember you small
still alive
hallucinating on morphine

You thought you’d won a watch
frustrated – we couldn’t understand
your rambling,
hard to speak with only half a tongue

I am angry
at you

Your ghost lingers – don’t think
I haven’t noticed
sneaking into my dreams still ashen – bent and aged
no words pass between accusing stares

I’ve buried my pain
and you

All that I could
locked away in secrecy
and sanctity
all the little gems I’ve put in my own box

Secured forever in my mind
in a thousand vaults with a million locks
not the drink, curses and violence
but laughter, cherry tobacco and of course, love

I’ve labelled this box

of you

Brush away dust and cobwebs – you’ll see,
Simplistic – a girl’s scribble
“Dad”.

That First Kiss…


She flutters her lashes, tiny bird wings
eyes tilting up
a slow frame-by-frame movie
plays in his mind – he reaches

Yet not far enough, a space
of  in-between, of… not quite sure

A pause so sweet, the air is damp with
breath
drops of honey on quivering lips
a meeting of silky wet, curious mouths

fragility, that every second
captures in the small tremble of

quickly beating hearts, her hand
caught-up
in a lock of his hair
she likes the taste of him

He likes the feel of her fingers on his face
tentative tongues explore

A tango of warm passion
a teasing
lick across full open lips
sampling flavoured gloss

He likes the scent of her glistening skin
she is arrested by his hurried, gentle touch

Being Human


I think it would be nice to tuck our emotions neatly away, a folded up cue card in our pocket labeled: anger, love, empathy and fear. We could take it out when we need it, quickly scan over the important parts and sum things up quickly and intelligently before retreating back into a serene world.

For the most part, it’s almost impossible, at least when you’re a fiery little thing with the absolute need to be heard and understood.

People react and overreact; it’s our nature. There are a few who hold everything back, take the deep breath and rise above it all. I really haven’t met too many of those people. When you’re not directly involved, it’s so easy to judge and prosecute, after the fact.

One should have done this and one should have said or not said that. If only life in the moment were that simple and executable. That’s the real crux of the matter…living and breathing it – in the moment.

I wonder if it is really possibly to walk in another’s shoes. Because, if we could and did, I somehow think there would be a whole different level of understanding.

Zenith

What is it?
this struggle that
keeps me awake
pondering my existence

Asking all who would listen
the question of our
lacking human capacity
for listening with our hearts,
speaking with our Higher Soul

This day I breathe
listening to the ebb and flow of my life’s blood

This hour I restrain
myself from losing grip on perception

This moment I succumb
and lose it anyway – finding a whole new way to see

The answer was always
obvious and poignant

Without one,
how can we know the other?

We will always choose
To select the highest stars
while sitting in the pits of Hell.

Rest In Peace


I hope your travel to the other side was a beautiful one, John. I hope that you’re with God, free of pain and have found joy.

On the Edge of Dream
 
I’ve come back to tell you –
death took me home the other day
it wasn’t how I imagined
death did not come…

 

Shrouded in Black shadows – face an endless pit of pain
death had no scythe, or weapon to hurt

 

She,
child born of Faeries
moonlight reflecting pale skin
petals of newborn spring adorned strawberry curls
her eyes,
the very stars….

 

Taking her hand,
I touched gossamer wings
air shimmered, made of purest light

 

“I’ve come to lead you home love”
Her voice a whisper; crystal bells 
“Yet I think you already know the way”

 

I did
I had – only to fly on the edge of dream,
balance on the tip of all thought, and I was there

 

I’ve come back to tell you
death took me home the other day
it was the most beautiful journey
the most un-imaginable joy

 

 

Friends


I don’t have very many of them, in fact, I can count them all on one hand. However, my loyalty is unwavering and my heart is true.

(I kind of feel a little Spock’ish on the last part) 😉

Friendship

I will:
listen to you,
really hear you
when you are
most needing to be heard.

I will:
empathize with your pain
not pity you – as
pity is for the weak
empathy is for understanding.

I will:
not judge
that is not my purpose or place
in the end-
we will judge ourselves
much more harshly than any
soul or God will do.

I will:
not offer advice,
but encourage you
to listen to your own
heart.

You already have all the answers.

I will:
help you to understand them,
help you to heal
showing you an incredible value –

Yourself.
Never doubt You

And,

if you fall,
I will help you up,
dust you off and make sure
your footing is on more solid ground

for the next time.

I am and will continue to be:
your friend.