These Sacred Scars

These sacred scars I bear are

not self-inflicted, but life induced.

I stand indicted

of others’ crimes

and cannot answer

for what’s not mine.

What I do

is cry in the dark

and bear witness

to the empty room,

the barren sky,

the callous cosmos,

that I bleed as

an innocent man.

Spring Yet Remains

Time passes, and seasons change.

I’ve walked this road with others who have

now departed, some not of their will, some not

of their power, but all the same,

not here.

It’ s lonelier now, yet no less lovely than

it’s always been.

It’s just that the silences grow deeper

toward the end.

Thoughts grow louder, and

small victories are

celebrated quietly in the heart

with whispered exclamations.

I feel gentle fingertips of a chilling herald wind

brush my cheek, and

smile at the inevitable winter.

And here in the cider- scented,

gathering autumn,

these vibrant colors

of my later years,

glorious before the blackened white

of my return home,

spring yet remains.

Blazing Trails

They speak of cutting bait

to untangle your life.

 

They speak of burning bridges

so you don’t return to the things

you wish to leave behind.

 

They speak of cutting losses

to start all over again.

 

But I am for blazing trails,

setting them alight so that

no one follows.

The Mourning After

Amid the wreckage of Love’s palace he stood, looking at the blood and rubble of what had once been splendid and vibrant and good.

No more.

Empty now, his sobs echoed in the broken rafters, louder for that he’d told himself he wouldn’t cry.

Men have no feelings, no hearts. They are but brute and rutting beasts capable only of low thought and high mischief.

Darkness gathered at the window, peering in on him with its pale lunar eye lighting the ruin he’d become, kneeling with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking like a trembling child.

Sudden, cruel, and terrible had been the sound of her high-heeled footsteps, staccato clacking  like small caliber shots to his heart.

Dignity lost, manhood scattered, his ice veins turned to water,and the water came out through his eyes. Despair had him by the throat and pulled the anguish out of him. He gave himself over and vowed he would always remember

And in the morning after, he would begin to become whole again,

But in the mourning after, he would never forget.

Sailing in the Misty Air

 

When drifting down these darkened banks

I see a million stars that draw

My wondering stare.

I find my thoughts

shine like the moon

on you,

your shadow walking

through the misty air.

 

I don’t know if you wait

or if you’re gone.

I only hope your smile

will greet me there.

But if you’re not,

I’ll grieve as life goes on,

and find my thoughts

turn into misty air.

 

I hear the gurgling crackle

of the waves.

The current’s hand

both pulls and pushes there.

The gentle wind does

stir the current so.

The fog starts waltzing

with the misty air.

 

I wonder if I’ll ever make it back

to kiss your lips,

and touch the raven hair

that tickles at my neck and chest

as care dissolves to love

upon the misty air.

 

Where Will I Find You?

Where will I find you?

“Where will you look?”

Over the mountain.

“Down in the nook.”

Into the valley

“Verdant and lush.”

Find you by sunset.

“Hurry and rush.”

“Where will I find you?”

Where will you look?

“Over the river.”

Down by the brook.

“Into the cottage.”

Through the red door.

“We’ll find each other.

Parting no more.”

I will.

I will survive no longer

I will live

I will surrender no longer

I will fight

I will suffer no longer

I will be content

I will stand still no longer

I will flow

I will hold on no longer

I will release

I will cry no longer

I will smile

I will hate no longer

I will love

I will be confined no longer

I will wander

For in the end,

if you can understand,

I will.