Ordinary Unknowns

 

If I were still awaiting a miracle, I could sit alone and rest. Today is not that day. Today has been quite ordinary.

What yet remains unknown, in the hours just ahead, will never be enough to change anything. Ordinary unknowns, these.

Ones like us that have long since given in, given up, given over.

Expecting nothing.

Except to wait.

 

Peace

Copyright 2020

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That Place In My Backyard

 

I don’t really have one to sit down alongside of on those days when doubt overwhelms me, that place in my backyard.

But I can still imagine it.

No second chances are needed there to get it just right, no time to pause for curiosity.

Just unbroken movement. A few sideways accommodations. An intemperate release.

Where each hint of eternity is swallowed up by some makeshift replacement. A flimsy reminder of the complicated days still ahead.

I’ll never know if peace could be found there, that place in my backyard.

But I can still imagine it.

 

Peace

Copyright 2020

Image Credit: Pixabay

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Meanings

 

The challenge for us most days is in assigning the correct meanings to ordinary words.

While dictionaries can assist with precise definitions, they exist within a snapshot of time. A space that is stagnant, discrete, and detached from raw emotion.

We are none of these things.

We tear through space and time as if on some raucous, undisclosed mission. On our best days, we are easy on ourselves and easier to please. But our best days are more often goals rather than everyday practicalities.

And so words that have been left for us, shouted at us, and even those especially designed to appease us, take on meanings more often assumed than intended. Words are necessarily filtered through our experiences, biases, loves, indifferences, and past rejections.

But it’s not so much about hearing, not so much about listening more closely. Rather, it’s about winnowing that space between us. That space where words and emotions vie for attention, if not outright dominance.

And recognizing that both will always be necessary if we are to better understand each other.

Peace

Copyright 2020

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Same Again

 

What am I to make of a day that ends just like it began?

One step forward, one step back, and another sideways for good measure. No further along, at least I am no longer in retreat.

While evening hours skid into night, the night still labors to find the day. As so often do I.

Yet tomorrow promises to be altogether different.

But in much the same way, no doubt.

Peace

Copyright 2020

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Begin Again

 

Starting over, looking back.

We step away from the past but still cling to ego. A story as old as any other.

And likely just as deadly.

Scores of new beginnings were long ago numbered. A constant reminder that finality awaits even the most mercurial among us.

Change itself is mostly welcomed. If only to prove that we are still alive, that we still hunger for second chances.

And even when pain is labeled progress, we suspect that progress will only lead us right back. Because sometimes stolen wisdom is just a false memory.

But it’s not as if we can tell the difference.

Begin again, anyway.

 

Peace

Copyright 2020

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Window Travel

 

I was made for Sunday mornings and winter.

With last night’s attire still on duty, I ease my way into a favorite reading spot. The one by the window. The one with all of that light.

Its frosted glass gently confirms my rejection of a busy day ahead – with its demands for shopping and indulgences and weekend chores.

They will all just have to wait. And Monday will be here soon enough.

Today, I will find my bookmarked spot – page 148 or thereabouts – and forget about everything except that window. And the chilled air that it keeps whispering to me about.

Today I will travel far away.

Just by sitting here, alongside this window.

 

Peace

Copyright 2020

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Who Are You?

 

Sinking far beneath the ground that you revere

Rising up higher than you could ever imagine

Your humanity is the only thing that remains

Unscathed between dirt and sea. But even

That cannot explain a lifetime of false

Entanglements or only yesterday’s

Misappropriated sanctity.

Who are you (really)?

 

Peace

Copyright 2020

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Your Story

 

You cannot step away far enough to take back what others have already recorded, the things that yet surround you.

Pain kept so well hidden that it now plays out comfortably upon your face. Anger once released into the air that still hovers tightly, like smoke dancing in circles right above your head. And laughter that betrays a simple broken heart.

This is your story, every jot and tittle, and one that exposes the subversiveness of a soul still pretending to be ordinary.

But you are uncommon, holy, and profane, as is the earth itself.

And yes, every bit as malleable if left to die without a story.

Tell it.

 

Peace

Copyright 2019

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Common Grounds

 

The morning has yet to distinguish us, one from the other.

Rock is as water, flesh is as dirt and the past seems to be

nothing at all. So here I am, alone but sitting right next

to you. I bend to gather up stones so as to take you

down. But the ones in my hand have turned into

sand, and the sand has just blown away.

I will remain here now.

Unscathed.

 

Peace

Copyright 2019

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