Category Archives: Uncategorized

Half A Moon

 

From where I’m standing, I can’t see you in full.

Yet I know that you’re prepared to walk away. Like you’ve done most other days.

It’s not that I don’t try to understand.

But even your most predictable assurances have grown feckless and stale. And I will be left behind, again, to engage the morning hours without you.

Only this time, you’ll carry away some small part of me as well.

I know you. So I harbor no doubts that you will return. Albeit something less than before. We both will be.

Much like half a moon.

Or less.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

 

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Fences

 

Staring out the window of my back porch.

I’d guess that the washed out wooden fence separating neighbor from neighbor would be easier to breach than its metal-framed gate. The one with the concrete stumps and rusted, broken latches.

What if only the gate were left standing?

A defined place from which to enter, when even the physical barriers between us no longer really mattered. An explicit demarcation of personality and self-interest.

I think that’s how you can best reach me.

Even if I tear down the fence I’ll keep the gate in good repair.

And you can just let me know when you’ve arrived.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Messages

 

Listen for them.

The messages that follow us from birth. The ones demanding our full attention.

Life’s first light carries us out of the watery shadows. Introducing us – sometimes hesitantly, sometimes not – to tyranny’s darkness and ordinary death.

We soon enough detect an opening among the seekers. Only to stumble and rise. And stumble again. With any luck, we may late find ourselves exchanging meaning for meaning and precision for gray.

Last steps, too, can reveal new beginnings. Sometimes ones strewn only with gold-plated rubble and freshly painted facades.

But life’s first light can carry us back to something more.

Back to the beginning. Back to the watery shadows.

If we are among those still listening.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Whispers In The Night

 

Misdirection and deceit are formidable players.

Especially where logic bows to madness, and haggard voices hush idle screams. Here, even the wildflowers are bridled and every thought stands ready to exchange itself for another similarly deranged.

Yet here I remain amid the chaos, as if looking down from the sky above. Listening for whispers in the night, trusting that they’ll soon reveal some maiden way forward.

But perhaps I’m only still dreaming.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Who We Are

 

Sometimes the mind deceives us and we forget who we are. There are days when it can trick us into believing that only good things still await. As if these moments were endless and the music never stops.

But the heart nearly always understands.

It isn’t easily terrorized nor willingly subdued. As much an instrument of delivery as it is an advocate for the unknown, it stands strong against those yet unconvinced of the seamlessness between futility and grace.

Still, the heart itself must first take from the world before it can ever teach the soul. But the soul, it seems, never really learns.

And the mind may never know why.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Implied Consent

 

Today began in silence.

That’s neither unusual nor unwelcomed. It surely hasn’t always been this way.

Struggling to dress, I’m surprised to find myself recalling recent moments bleeding with uncertainty, bordering on terror (but somehow ending with a stipulation – with myself – of better days just ahead).

Now, I too often just fade into some backward-looking eternity. One where my earliest memories annihilate those made only yesterday.

I stumble, forward.

And so here I wait. A man who cannot verify his past, and without assurance that any of it mattered anyway.

Consent was never requested, never given.

Except that now, my silence is deemed consent.

Even though I no longer can rage.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Junk

 

Junk.

We exhaust ourselves paying for it, storing it, protecting it. Yet we remain as disconnected from our stuff as we do from each other.

Perhaps there’s some connection.

Acquisition is one measure of keeping score, of staking out a distinct personality. What I collect may give you some insight into who I am or the priorities that I’ve set.

But it can also signal an obsession over barriers and boundaries. Sometimes physical, sometimes psychological. “Don’t touch my stuff” can just as easily be understood to mean “don’t get too close to me.”

There is nothing inherently disordered in the things themselves or in our desire to acquire them. But we need to look beyond our stuff in order to better understand our time and place here.

That so many more of us now have an opportunity to access or maintain financial resources above and beyond that which we actually need to live is somewhat astounding – if not historic. That the disconnect between us grows ever greater is not.

To be clear, I am not here advocating a minimalist approach to life. Nor do I believe that simply cleaning out the storage bins in our attics – or our heads – will make us happier, more connected people.

But a more mindful look beyond our junk, with a recognition that its shelf-life is certainly no greater than our own, may help us to maintain our focus on the things that will surely outlive us all.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Weep

 

Weep for the hatchlings wobbling in the summertime,

Only to watch them grow into magnificent beasts.

Weep for the wounds that never seem to heal,

Only to find them binding you to your peace.

Weep for the destruction all around you,

Only to realize, in your desperation,

You have been given yet another

Chance.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!

Dirt Roads

 

Bumping my head against the window, I’m startled back into consciousness.

It’s been some time since we started down these winding dirt roads. Exhaustion had finally overtaken me and I had fallen asleep.

I have only the vaguest recollection, now, of exactly when it began.

None at all about the why.

Yet here I am, about to enter this place. This, supposedly, new beginning.

Everything feels familiar. As if these might be the very grounds from which I had started out so many years ago.

Or was it yesterday?

It doesn’t matter. I am no longer the man that I pretended to be. Dirt roads have a way of shaking loose the accumulated debris, leaving behind only those things with which we began.

But none of it was supposed to be permanent anyway.

Except these dirt roads.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

If You Liked This Post, Please Share It!