No Shallow Chasm

Carry my cross and then you 'll know just how heavy the weight bears down.
Feel my burden and then you 'll know the guilt that coincides with the responsibility.
Feel my light and then you'll know the strength I have within.
Venture to dive and then you'll see how deep my story goes. 
I am a chasm, guarded but not reclusive. 
I am open to those who seek the depth. 
The shallow would never survive.

The Candle

The candle

I was given

as a memorial

for my mother

who passed away a few short months ago
I sat with the candle,
looked at the candle
and found myself yearning for a moment with my mom
and so
I brought it with me
to spend time with her
in the only way I could

I lit the candle and
sat with it
watching the flame
burning in front of me
I drew it closer

and felt the warmth
burning beside me,
I longed for more 

I stared intently
waiting and wanting my mother to return
and as I gazed at the wax

and the flame
burning within

appeared a heart

and I knew my mom was with me

Clearing Clouds

If I write my thoughts down and release them while I drive

Will my message ever reach you, far beyond the heaven's sky

Will the letters stay maintained in the order I set down

Will the wind send them spinning, so they rustle up a sound

Will my words become a mantra, a subtle shift avowed

Emerging alteration with the force of thunder clouds

As my sentiment evolves from the mystical unknown

For all my worldly errors I am humbly atoned

 

Sift or Swing

The difference between a blanket on the beach and a hammock in the yard is the support of two strong trees to hold us up. 

Sometimes we are happy in the sandbox and other times we need to reach for the trees

Angel Hugs

I got an urge to climb a tree.
I wanted to see how far I'd see.
I tackled the tree with nimble feet,
and quickly found a new retreat,
and as I climbed the tree got slim.
I swayed and bent each tiny limb.
I tested twigs so frail and weak,
all for a glance, a premier peak,
and when I thought, the branch would break,
I saw it there, the golden gate.





You looked at me, your silence spoke,
and cradled in your winged cloak,
you gently brought me back to home
and then I heard "you're not alone
The tapping leaves upon each tree
are loving words to you from me
The rays of sun that break the clouds
are your embrace, a soothing shroud
The random hearts you come across,
are angel hugs sent from aloft"

Sure-Prize

The prize is not always what we want

But it is always what we are given

Avoidance

Avoidance is a derivative of fear...

Avoidance...broken down...

A Void...hollow empty, vacant

Dance...Steps, movement or gestures

The end result...Hollow steps, empty movement or vacant gestures

the mere act of avoidance may seem like a protective barrier from disappointment

but the mere act of avoidance is disappointment

if we avoid, we are either afraid to fail, or don't care enough to try

Swollen

I was incompetent, inept, vacuous,

Verbally vacant but internally absorbed by that which assaulted me

A reality that was indescribable, yet entirely familiar

A nightmare, where you want to scream, but are unable to vocalize a single syllable...

Unable to speak, a sensation reserved for the dormant and incoherent dreamer

Frozen with fear...

 

but I have lived that horrifying and crippling condition

 

A shock and sadness so deep, so unexpected and so unwanted,

I never thought life was capable of a darkness so deep and completely black,

that I could not see anything

but the sorrow that swelled and swallowed my words...

Love Lingers

Death creeps closer with each pass
it takes from me
 the light that warms
the levity that lifts
 and the desire that drives
leaving me with the love that is lost,
 to the other side
sending me the warmth of light
 the lift of levity
and the drive to desire...
 love lingers long after the loss

Frozen Efforts

At what point do we accept, there is an issue, a failing, a falling, a void...
As we descend or once we are buried?
Is the shovel our saving grace or the devils device?
There are times when digging in is a fruitless effort
One can not halt the swallow of quicksand
Until we freeze our efforts and wait for help...

Keeping My Distance

My mind has been in a coma
Shocked into a solid sleep
Unable to feel, sense or express anything

Quietly distraught with no solace to be found

and when thoughts have always been the life blood that sustains me
and my words the sutures that heal

I find myself now,

lifeless, still, and scarred so deep that the pain is visible, tangible and infectious...
and distance, breathes life into the virus

Developing the Negative

Existence does not always give us what we want or expect
it gives us what we need to grow
and when it gives us a big dose
of all that we don't need, want or understand
we are meant to find the purpose behind the pain
There is always something to be gained
amidst the loss
It''s all about developing the negative

Life Changes Everything

And there is no going back
no reintroductions
no redos
no recreating

life goes on
and those that remain must live with regret
live with remorse
and live with ourselves

the true test is
have we discovered anything
have we unearthed meaning
or ascertaned courage

to know
change is growth
change is necessary
change is life

Love's Painting

Your selfless soul is leaving
and our hollowed hearts are bound
you leave behind this world
without uttering a sound
Your faith and thoughtful nature
a beacon shining bright
lest no sadness be our soul mate
but your smile, the guiding light
You've lived a life of giving
thinking nothing of sacrifice
if it meant that you'd be offering
relief to others' strife
You graced the lives of many
in your gentle touching way
Grasp firmly all our love
for we know you can not stay
and as our heavy hearts are sinking
to the soles of weary feet
we stamp the ground with heart prints
painting love upon the street

Floating Hearts

A shared heart has the strength of two...

One night
just the two of us
I am the one who struggles for words
Yet you are speechless

Tears flow
and for brief moments
our eyes meet and I say the words
I kept so close to my heart I forgot to share them

All night long
in the darkness I see floating hearts
radiating, drifting, shining and throbbing
The sentiments behind the words
held captive for so long they now burst forth

Enwraping the two of us
Giving us both a haven
that shrouds us with the warmest cloak and veil
And today,
my love for you is greater than it was yesterday
From the depths of my heart, I share

Broken Thoughts

As I look at my mother, feeble and weak, I do not see the person she was, the person she would want to be remembered as, or the memory she would want to represent her,  in her last days.  I see a kind, gentle, elderly person with infant like qualities.  She is mesmerised by the TV, has the reflexes one is born with, and looks at everything presented to her, with the fascination that a child has when seeing something for the first time.  She does not realize that she is married to the man who sits at her side everyday for hours.  She does not know that the others that frequent her bedside are her children.  She does not distinguish between family, and nurses or doctors. She has no recollection that she was once an avid reader, a swimmer, a daily church goer,  or a loved grandmother.  Unable to move her own tiny body to sit up, she relies on a Hoyer lift to move her from the bed to a chair.  Her accomplishments now, are comprised of, sitting in a chair for a few hours a day, opening her eyes to look at visitors for a few briefs moments, moving her right arm an eighth of an inch, and raising her left arm to feel the concavity that exists where her skull once was. She will never again, walk, talk, comprehend, or understand communication as we know it. While we talk about all the fantastic foods she used to prepare, she has no interest, and quite possibly, no understanding of a solid substance. She has not been able to eat or drink anything, whatsoever, for seven weeks, not even a sip of water, and yet she appears to still know what it is like, to experience thirst.  She no longer has the ability to swallow, yet she can still smell what we are unable to give her. She can no longer eat.  All she knows in her new state, is the feeding tube that pumps liquid sustenance into her body. Her hard working hands will never again make the wonderful foods, she was so well known for.  She will never again, play the piano, take a walk, talk on the phone, stand up, hold a conversation or say the rosary.  She does not even know how many children she has.  She has no idea that she was a class valedictorian when she graduated from high school.  She is now diminished to a small remnant of the magnanimous person she was.  She does not remember her life...she has no recollection of all that she has done, what is important to her, or what she believes in. She is no longer the person she was, but she is alive.  She can open her eyes and smile with parts of her mouth.  She can laugh, she does know what is comfortable and what is painful.  She does not have the moisture in her body to produce tears, yet she feels the impulses that draw tears. She feels frustration and anger toward her predicament, yet can not find or form the words to tell us what she wants.  She is the equivalent of a comma in a sentence.  At times she makes sense, but stand alone, without structure, and she is just a symbol that exists. A small mark that signifies a break in thought...and that is what her existence is comprised of, broken thoughts.

The Survivor

I am but a shell harboring a body
I am but a mind unaware of it's purpose
I am but a patient who once had a life
I am but a mother who has now become a child
I am but a brain which has lost what it once had
I am but a human who survived but does not live
I am but a future reverting to it's past

Written in Tears

I can not speak
the words are interned in my throat
unable to move
my body trembles with the thoughts and words, that I can not speak
I am terrified
The tears escape as the words remain
but if you look closely
the words are there
written in the tear stained paper

The Fall

These strangers become family to some extent
we grow to expect to see them each day
and without words we share the most personal and intimate feelings
our eyes and bodies express what our mouths can not vocalize
and as each comes and goes, we hope for good news for one of us
but secretly we want it for ourselves
and as one families' nightmare comes to a horrendous crescendo
another new family appears in the hall
the same tumultuous journey awaits them
with one good day, comes three days of hell
with each moment we become more and more afraid to believe
afraid to have faith because the disappointment grows in severity
the higher we go the more damaging the fall
and it was just that, which brought us here
the fall

Waiting

Waiting
Clusters of strangers sharing a space
Each story is different and yet we have all arrived at this juncture
Our paths cross and our eyes lock for brief moments
and we see the same sadness
the same struggle
the same vacancy
and we wait
The constancy of the routine familiar and foreign at the same time
and we wait
Each desperate to see some improvement, some change, something
that represents hope
to keep the flow of energy alive
and we see tears, we feel tears serrating our hearts with their cold curves as they slide throughout our bodies
the painful ache of agony
for our loved ones, ourselves and these strangers we have come to share space with
and we hope
that our next tears will be tears of joy
at the sight of something

Forks

This is the first of many forks and I can't stomach any of it

Solid Hearts

Walks are a daily ritual that my dog Stella and I have come to relish
And today as we walked, we came upon something that gave me pause
and made me smile
and while I gazed at the wonder of a random and unexpected hoof print in the frozen earth
my companion came to see what had me so enraptured
and while I marveled at the sight
she stumbled into that which held me captive
and again it stirred a pondering that lead to inspired insight
and as her presence grazed the print
a swaddling of sentiment enveloped me
and as her paws met the hoof print that was frozen in the earth,
it gave me pause again
for it was then, that the message was clear...

she fell into my heart and has filled it
with the simplest of pleasures in the most extraordinary way

Writer's Curse

When words escape the poet, it's a sad day for the pen
When the ink is dry and crusty and I can't remember when
I last composed a rhyme, clever in it's verse
So, patiently I'm waiting to shed this writer's curse

Nature's Course

the moon can turn
the sun can burn
the skies can give us rain
nature's course
unbridled force
a torrent to restrain

Bringing Up the Rear

It is the first day of the new year and I have been contemplating my resolutions all day.  I am no different than the mass majority that strives to be better, lose weight, accomplish more and venture out of my comfort zone, yet unlike the masses, I do not want to set myself up for another failed attempt and so, I have unearthed what might be my most brilliant idea, since I started writing this blog.  I have decided to use reverse psychology.  I have decided to start my year, as my typical year usually ends.  I have determined that it is entirely more realistic for me to continue on my excessive patterns of eating and drinking at will, slotherly exercise routines that wax and wane with the moons cycles and lazy days of limited accomplishment and virtually no motivation to change.  If I start at the bottom and work my way back, I will avoid the rush of the fickle, physical enthusiasts, that storm the gym like an army of ants attacking a bread crumb that lies within their venerated domain, swarming and gathering in mass numbers, all to receive their piece of the prize.  While the ambitious congregate, I will be weening myself off the excesses of chocolate and alcohol I have established as part of my daily diet.  My routine will be easier to break if I am not forced to go cold turkey, after building up a tolerance most drunks and obese would struggle to attain. My body will not be thrown into a detox that instills cold sweats and the shakes from the sudden withdrawal of sugar and hops.  I will allow a more gentler transition from my over indulgence to my more tempered restraint.  By the time the masses have tired of their ambitious and restrictive goals, I will be ready to turn the keg in for a kettle ball.  I will be ready to set goals and actually work toward accomplishment, rather than rolling over and sleeping in for the seventh day in a row.  I will be tackling the mountain while everyone else is sliding down.  I will end my year better that I started it and everyone else will be so far gone, they'll need a Sherpa to get them back on track.
Now this is a resolution I can definitely handle.  Starting the New Year, bringing up the rear...Bottoms Up!!!