Friday, December 21, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
a lifetime of failures
back up
in my subconscious
like a clogged toilet,
mocking the wisdom
ostensibly gained
at midlife
in the solitary desert
of restless wakefulness
my aching body
clamors to fill the
empty spaces
in other desolate wastelands
exhausted and spent,
I crawl on my belly
to the Source of my life
and beg for a drink.
back up
in my subconscious
like a clogged toilet,
mocking the wisdom
ostensibly gained
at midlife
in the solitary desert
of restless wakefulness
my aching body
clamors to fill the
empty spaces
in other desolate wastelands
exhausted and spent,
I crawl on my belly
to the Source of my life
and beg for a drink.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
Statistics*
A shadowy figure
waits silently for its cue,
unseen, yet expected
invisible yet perceptible,
discernible yet unacknowledged
by the caregivers
in the room.
Once the inevitable visitation is over,
they breathe a sigh of relief,
not realizing that the specter
does not abandon the room altogether.
No.
Their being there, their caring and caretaking
has shortened the time
the specter must wait
to come
for them.
*This poem is my response to reading that "the stress of being a caregiver will shorten the lifespan by 10 years."
waits silently for its cue,
unseen, yet expected
invisible yet perceptible,
discernible yet unacknowledged
by the caregivers
in the room.
Once the inevitable visitation is over,
they breathe a sigh of relief,
not realizing that the specter
does not abandon the room altogether.
No.
Their being there, their caring and caretaking
has shortened the time
the specter must wait
to come
for them.
*This poem is my response to reading that "the stress of being a caregiver will shorten the lifespan by 10 years."
Friday, October 5, 2007
Ode to Early October
It is early October.
The days are shorter
but the temperature still hovers
around 85.
The leaves on the trees
are a sad and pathetic green
although some that are khaki or sepia
have fallen, exhausted, to the ground.
Will we see color this year?
Will we feel the crispness of Autumn,
greeting us every morning--
and nature's fiery earnestnes
propelling us, strengthened,
towards winter?
The days are shorter
but the temperature still hovers
around 85.
The leaves on the trees
are a sad and pathetic green
although some that are khaki or sepia
have fallen, exhausted, to the ground.
Will we see color this year?
Will we feel the crispness of Autumn,
greeting us every morning--
and nature's fiery earnestnes
propelling us, strengthened,
towards winter?
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Restless Hearts
We are like vultures,
fallen,
searching for that which,
though dead,
would feed us.
We fill our stomachs
full of empty sweetness
that seems to satisfy.
That which we hunger for,
that which would feed us
is You and You alone.
You gave us yourself.
Your death, given for us,
is made alive again
to nourish and strengthen us
to give us life
for the journey--
to remain with us
until the end
of time.
fallen,
searching for that which,
though dead,
would feed us.
We fill our stomachs
full of empty sweetness
that seems to satisfy.
That which we hunger for,
that which would feed us
is You and You alone.
You gave us yourself.
Your death, given for us,
is made alive again
to nourish and strengthen us
to give us life
for the journey--
to remain with us
until the end
of time.
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