have you
ever wished
you had
your own
Little Chair
safe inside
an impenetrable
glass dome
shiny clear
could it
become your
comfort place
would it
be like
another home
a chair
a dome
you alone
who might
approach your
Steel Stairs
step light
hoping for
interaction while
you sit
naming all
the stars~
This might be the cover of my next book.
It might not take so long as the others have to write as I think I might leave the pages of this one clear of any ramblings, rhymes, and stumbles.
Can the subtle sound of blank pages turning by one’s own hand lead to anywhere worthy?
If I were to leave a copy of Grace on a park bench, would a passerby take it and carry it along and then later in their room slowly turn its blank pages and be stirred somehow?
Then close it again and put it away.~
tension clouds in the air today
tension everywhere and every way
walking around eyes to the ground
suspicion grinds it’ll take you down
sometimes I don’t want what it is I see
so much cracked fragmented humanity
Tom Waits says a song is like a prayer
a letter sent to somebody way out there
scribble me one I promise I’ll read
somebody willing to plant a good seed
I lean in close to the sound I hear
find hope in thin slivers of possibility🪶
who first dreamed it into reality
what kind of person they/she/he
when did the idea first occur
where was the concept first presented
why did anyone else so readily agree
maybe some are born bereft
maybe some have eyes but no view
maybe some are burdened with fear
maybe some have heart but no soul
maybe some only revel in cruelty
humans being human are controllers
humans being human are conquerors
humans being human destroy
humans being human devour
humans being human justify
humans being human are capable
humans being human are community
humans being human respect
humans being human learn
humans being human rise like the sun
looking out from high ground
sweet birdsong all around and wind
beauty of potential whispers still
rhythms of possibility beat like a drum
where will we, humans being, go now?
no exit
one way out
enter by distraction or
unrecognized intention
not far away
traffic’s steady flow
here though
senses stir behind
a gossamer veil in sway
a muted awakening
a hum or whisper
slowed heart beat
in rhythm with soft
steps through damp grass
between agreed upon
boundaries marked
with subtlety of foliage
or wordless ‘keep out’ enclosure
I claim ownership to none
yet come to pause
near a weather grey picnic table
bask in the late afternoon light
watch clouds cross
this pale blue September sky
circle the looming presence
of a great Garry Oak memory tree
yet come to stroll
narrow paths between
bounty of life unseen
to view the fruits of
others’ love and labour and time
to listen for a familiar rhythm
to clear my world weary mind~
along the winding trails
peril lies ready
misjudge this terrain and
it’ll take you down so low
yet chance waves come on come on
come on keep on moving
discovery still stirs you
something shining allures you
step through hesitation and worry
stand at the edge
look at the sky
sweep to ground
what is shown in this moment
is just for you and
by tomorrow will be gone🪶
stepping between light stream
shadows on flutter leaves
kicking loose stones on the trail
crow calls from high lands
autumn whispers hello
shedding what is over
part of living
part of ending
part of starting anew~
leave a mark
even if it won’t last
in a moment of awe
pause for breath
hear the song of your heart beat
someone after
may erase what you made
we are each one unique
bound by our nature
leave a mark
even if unsteady
maybe in the next storm
it will come tumbling down
leave a mark
even if it’s fragile
your whisper lingers and
I’ll know you were once here
where I’m standing now🪶
something missing
in some people today
maybe it’s been forgotten
maybe something
they never learned
the hush of listen
the whisper of story
the tender of compassion
the wait of understanding
balance is fragile
living in proximity
me seeing you you seeing me
what happens when
there’s no one left who knows the feel
of human touch~
sometimes I leave my radio on
all night, allowing the flow
uncensored to enter, knowing
I will intake even the unsavoury—
opinions offered by those whose voices
to whom while awake
I would not wish to lend my ear
reports of horrors unfolding in places
to people I have no chance of saving
Probably this habit is unwise
oblivion and obfuscation are soothers
I might benefit from if only
I could learn to turn off that weak
aspect I cannot seem to reach
My hands will not allow my fingers
to unfold, to turn off the knowing dial
My empathy my horror my sorrow
outrage—-futile as it feels
still that I do feel, is confirmation
enough that I am still human
In the small sphere of this space that
is my privilege to occupy
I seek to be, to strive for better
some small nick of refuge in the chaos
I forage for balance amid cruelty
tune my ears to professors of peace
I stumble into the forest to commune
with the ragged beauty of nature
drink her sacred nectar to sustain me
I travel toward the rhythm of the drum
at the heart of true humanity
and I trust there is some distant day
wherein a pause will occur
a purifying rainfall
a deliverance of calm
a comprehensive gnosis
received in all languages
And then a universal agreement
declaring all lives of intrinsic value
conflict quieted for eternity
Hope dances with Possibility
the hopeful are tireless in our quest🪶