Still Believe

It takes a lot sometimes to find
the ease of love
the familiar give and take
and breath that comes from
shared memories.

We find that changes confuse
our sight.
Views diverge where they seem
most important.
Voices raise and
blood pressure follows.
Eyeballs roll and words are tough
to swallow, don't wallow in
despair ;
the bond is there.

The breaths we took
before we knew
what breathing meant
were in your arms.

The tears that washed
our softest cheeks
were soothed
with your lips
pressed to our brows.

We know you...
the you beyond the now.

See us now before your gaze
the spawn of flesh
and goodness. You took all
the best
all you had
you shined it bright
and placed it at our feet.

We hold it here for you
in this velvet box
with no real locks
but safely kept, washed freshly now
with tears
we've kept
inside.

Seeing still your grandeur
bent not broken
words not spoken
remain in the room.
Just as you
believe in us
we believe
in you.

Skywatcher

I am a skywatcher.
I lay in wait...
Stepping out from
the night to find
a blanket of lights
outwitting my nightmares

breathing in the
scent of
tiny
gatherings of crabgrass
dancing in the
weeping of the night

I am a skywatcher
just catching the dawn
pink and bursting
gliding forth
delaying my fears

pausing for
the hopes of
one
barn swallow lifted
singing in the
vapor of the dawn

Brilliant gold lifting
along the horizon
I lose the day to
sagging limbs tied
monontonous practice
covered
closed
kept
under and in
whirring and ticking
down and hunched
false brilliance squared
capturing
pieces
holding off
waiting to
be
free to
stretch
each
bony
chunk
of spine
rise
walk
escape

I am a skywatcher
through the glass
fiery splinters
catch me
hold me
breaking free
freshness washes in
face lifted
bottled self
beyond casings
flies up
out
into
cool orange streaks
rising over
tall pines
finding
celestial relief

sour song

Musical lyrics order my brain
follow the rhythm to manage the pain

Lighten the load of bricks in the pile
building on memories, won't reconcile

Haphazardly stacked they rob sanity
ordered and patterned, salvation they'll be

I'll lay them around me in garden-like rows
as they're prancing and dancing and stopping to pose

Lovely arrangements enliven the tune
swirl over sharp corners softened, but soon

The very refrain that first made me grin
blocked out by new layers, it's closing me in

Truth

The thing about the truth is...

I have always had an uncanny ability to see it, and know it, even when I do not want to.

Pretending to believe is...

next to impossible because I can see myself trying.

The thing about the truth is...

that it smacks me in the face...daily

leaving me bruised and aching.

The thing about the truth is...

that even when I think I have eluded its grasp, I cannot escape it.

The truth does not set me free...

it just leaves me with nowhere to hide