Category Archives: Human

Beauty of Grief

Where is the beauty found in grief

when the eyes swell up without relief

and spill in torrents over cheeks?

when snot runs thick filling tissue upon tissue

and sobs are wrought of unresolved issues?

Where is the beauty found in grief

where emotions steal time like a skillful thief

rejecting what is, without relief?

An alteration of time, of space

pilfered from the “what was” place?

Where is the beauty found in grief

a loving acknowledgement of the deceased

acceptance of the transition to their newborn peace

One breath forward in the journey of healing

At the altar of death knelt keening

The Last Birthday

For Alan England

We gathered in joy to celebrate

92 years of adventures

We ate carrot cake with cream cheese frosting

He ate a whole slice

Small forkfuls gifted

I gave him nourishment of body

Refreshment of spirit

Asked questions of his life

Heard stories of his rescue

From a cave from a read report

From a caving buddy

Decades of friendship revealed

Small and barely loud enough to hear

The man approaching his history, laughed at himself,

Surrounded by love and tenderness

Exuded by his blessed daughters,

Cherished by friends

A relaxed camaraderie blossomed

Filling the room, breaking through the windows into the wooded view

We celebrated his life joyfully

By showing up in loving attention.

Grown

Flames surrounding a blue figure with gray shadow people watching.
Past life

I have lived in darkness

Reveled in its muck

Too lost to seek out beauty

Too broken to give a fuck

I have succumbed to anger

At the injustice of it all

I’ve witnessed deadmen falter

I’ve heeded hateful calls.

I have chewed away the chains

Of violent neglectful abuses

I have blamed myself and blamed the stars

I have justified it with childish excuses

I’ve rejected ancestral wisdom

To bleed out my unique path

I’ve run. I’ve crawled. I’ve slithered

I’ve ground myself to ash

I’ve built myself a castle

With every grain of sand

I’ve flown through vicious storms

Without a personal command

I’ve crashed and burned a thousand times

Roasted marshmallows on bridges I’ve burned

I’ve picked myself up and dusted me off

Each scar a battle-wound earned

I’ve cavorted with sinners and prostitutes

I’ve imbibed heavily in the drink

I’ve witnessed senseless violence

And still refused to sink

Because that darkness cannot win

It isn’t who I’ve become

It may be where I once have dwelled

But I will never revisit or succumb

Be With What Was

I cling to his hand while he clings to life

His view is the woodland with death his midwife

His eyes see something I cannot comprehend

Each finished stage whispers goodbye

Wordlessly he measures towards his inevitable end

While sorrow bows my head, trying not to cry

Time spent together fills my thoughts undaunted

“Be with what was.” My spirit tells me quietly

Flooding me with memories, what I knew of him is wanted

I reject the wisdom I am given, holding on to him defiantly

His breathing rustles his lungs so deeply, erratic in its spurts

He’s giving in completely, “Oh Adonai, this hurts!”

TAMP: Honorarium

From the forest comes the howl

Loam of earth’s dead rise

Ascending lift of sacred fowl

Imminent his demise

The snort of buck calls to a doe

A blue jay alarms the wood

Hastened river onward flows

The frigid dusk holds good.

A witness to the story

He is silent in the still

Accolades and glory

Abandoned from his will

His legacy is found abiding

In maple, in walnut, or oak

His spirit freely residing

Among his beloved folk.

From the forest comes the howl

Loam of nature’s rise

Ascending lift of sacred fowl

The undertaking of goodbyes.

The Heir

You were a human being

With a life as precious as my own

But, I’m alive and you are not

To me a path was shown

I’ve inherited your voices

I’m heir to your bright beacon

I will not turn away

My resolve will never weaken

I spend my inheritance freely

With loud pride from your source

I magnify it ideally

Your oppression no longer enforced

The lynching tree will bear no fruit

The crucifixion of branches

Will decay, not take root

It’s time to play with matches

Altar Building

Holy light ripples from one prayer to the next

Candle to candle

Continuous Hope lit liberally

From one heart to another

A sustainable support

To ease burdens

To celebrate joys

To guide one another

With wisdom and reverence

A catalyst towards Universal Love

Progress towards Justice

A beacon towards personal truth

A stable trust in sacred communion

Of torchbearing faith outwardly

Reflection of our own hearts

Rising like the morning mist in a meadow

The Visitor

I saw the shadow of death holding your hand at your bedside.

You couldn’t see me because you were seeing what it showed you.

Your breath came in sharp sudden bursts as if you were forgetting how

The blankets were white like your skin, clean

But contrary to the warmth they offered, you cooled

I greeted you by name, nodded to death, said a prayer of comfort.

The blue of your gown shrouded your emaciation

I stood next to you whispering words of loving comfort

As I took my leave, you prepared your own version.

Tomorrow, it’s likely I will see the rising sun.

Tomorrow, you will offer your hosanna to God in person

Vacillation

Sometimes when I’m alone

feeling sorry for myself

Lonely for the company of another,

I think of you.

I look around and see artifacts

gathered around me like ghosts.

I remember how much we laughed.

But I also remember how much I cried.

I feel the warmth of your hand.

I feel a longing for what was; not what is.

I miss you terribly

but not enough to give up the happiness I’ve built.

I refocus on my own company

I think of everything I’ve accomplished since “we”

And yes, I still miss you, but you’ve become

a fond memory of abandoned dreams