Here is the place,
soft amber light
warm hands
cool breeze.
Here is the circle,
feel the connection
crackling completeness
arms tight,
hearts warm.
Here is love,
wrapped around you,
holding you up,
sending you strength.
Here is peace.
Here is hope.
Here is now.
.
.
For Londa.
Blue sky
Slight breeze
Rocking of the lounge
Toss the dog’s ball
Feel summer approach.
Thunder in the south
Booming concussion shakes the land
Storm brewing
Run or
Hold fast?
Sometimes
there is no why
there simply is.
Your body
came into the world
like this.
The cancer in your family line.
The inclination to heart disease.
That birth defect.
Desperate fear
brings joy to snake oil salesmen
who’ll tell you whatever you need to hear.
Fake healers with degrees from schools of blarney.
Double blind research shows it’s no different that a placebo.
You don’t need an expensive sugar pill;
Just accept the hope
without the hype.
Believe you will get better,
and your body will believe you,
without sharing fake cures that might kill you,
without wasted dollars in fake cures flushed
away, and if your body doesn’t accept cure,
live today.
Such said
This said
Opening griefs
Slamming happiness
No no no.
Embracing
unexpected dreariness
welcome solitude
The rain washes everything
clean.
For Linda, and those Fluevog Heidi boots… 🙂
.
Never felt right for me.
Sloppy here
Too tight there
Almost like they just weren’t meant to be.
Then you came along
singing those songs
inspiring me.
You made me laugh
A rough task when my brain is broken.
When we had a chance to meet
Your floral feet put right next to mine
The sky lit with possibility of
A perfect fit.
Almost as if I’d been meant to keep them safe for you
Almost as if they were waiting.
I’m waving those babies good-bye as you drive down the street.
I’m elated we had a chance to meet,
’cause those boots were plainly meant for your feet.
They’re meant for dancing to the beat
stomping on bad days,
striding places
where I was never going to take them.
I know it’s absolutely true:
Those boots were meant for you.
for Tai
.
You’ve always been a mountain climber.
Sometimes climbing means tumbling to the valleys.
Sometimes it means diving into sparkling mountain lakes
and becoming entangled with weeds
that pull you down.
Who knew you could drown while climbing?
You’ve always been a mountain climber.
Sometimes every part of you aches for a break,
longs for the plateau.
Rest.
But you keep climbing,
because sometimes, when you stand on the summit,
see the world laid out before you
a carpet of overcoming,
you see all the opportunity;
you see you can fly.
