Poetry

A bird alighted quietly
I thought it common, common quite
As it was smallish, grey, and brown
A plainly shaped and colored sight
It gave me just a moment’s glance
Then when twas done, set off to flight.

I pondered briefly on the bird
Which, like all things, would one day die
And not a backwards glance it gave
As it took to the brightened sky

On my journey to the bottom,
to the root of how-i-act
the accuser lies in wait,
with his monkeys on my back
beneath self-hate and others-judgment
through crippled panic attacks
fringed about by distortions
where nerves were and are still wracked…

there he waits.

the wretched one demands of me
a sacrifice of what-i-could.
he glares at me cold demanding
as if what-follows understood.
round his frame, all my failings
circle round as minions true
and my pride forms the scepter
with which he ruled all-i-can-do…

i wait.

because i pause he calls to me
with radiant gifts in outstretched hand
he cries with sweetest melodies
that seem to echo through the lands
i pause there and look deeper still
through veils through mirrors memories
remembering a lost innocence
forgetting some lost vanities…

i wait.

“you can’t defeat me,” he speaks at last,
“on your hate i feed”
“i can’t defeat you” i admit
“by my word or deed.
you live on greed and ignorance,
and feed on pride and hate.
You’ve been with man since time began, and always lie in wait.

in wait.

Yet i know of One that you do fear
who plays no mirror games,
these minions are no match for Him,
He’ll steal that pride-built cane.
His madness is the sweetest gift
for those who breathe life sane
and in His light all disappears,
now shall i speak His name…”

sitting there
in chamber bare
a mirror on the wall
reflecting some of the sun’s light
not placed to show it all.
dust motes through the air do dance.
the room is empty, spacious.
tests of will.
lessons still.
patience. patience.
patience…

Being beaten in the dirt
Didn’t really cease to hurt
When I picked myself up from the earth
After for mercy pleading

And something bout that stone I felt
The one when in the earth I knelt
Hard and cold against me while
To unsure stance proceeding

It dug into my flesh a bit
And hurt more than where I’d been hit
And left hardness in tender tissue
Scarred after finished bleeding

Somehow that wound had shown my fault in rising
from this quick assault
And hardened indeed as my heart did
For period much less fleeting
..
With lump in throat and sunken breast
I walked away from each these tests
With more hardness in flesh and chest
Eyes down, cold, ungreeting

Then one day walking as alone
Along a shore not far from home
A child handed me a stone
As though ‘twas something needed

As my habit was those days
I almost tossed it square away
Consigned it to the rolling waves
gratitude unheeded

But it shimmered as I nearly cast it
Like its core was made of glass
Reflecting as twas changed in aspect
Showing blazing sun

I called the child… who’d taken flight
Amused with some other delight
Innocence asserts its playful right
Somewhere immersed in fun

I wear that stone until this day
Against my chest to ward away
Some evil spirit my mind may
Give unwelcome birth

Sometimes alone I crave the sight
And turn it in the brilliant light
And softly, spirit takes to flight
Above this stony earth

i look at the looks of my fellow men towards even the children of “another” race
as though there was some kind of otherness that could be deemed less before God’s face
as though there was some kind of line defining a competition for His embrace
and the darkness is hard to see through the darkness is hard to see through

i look at the colors of sunlight shining through the prism of falling rain
and i try to remember so i can relate when i didn’t know was a trick of the brain
to see separation of the colors as a true form in the distance opposite the sun
and it’s hard not to come undone yeah it’s hard not to come undone
and the darkness is hard to see through the darkness is hard to see through

i cringe from the rallying cries of us versus them screaming wild anger
and i listen to the desperate voices of the mute and the unwilling idle begging from strangers
and i look at the nickel bags empty on the side of the road thinkin what mouths do they feed
and i wonder who’s hungry tonight and hungry for justice for those who bleed
and it’s hard not to come undone yeah it’s hard not to come undone
and darkness is hard to see through the darkness is hard to see through

so i look towards the clouds above, and i stretch my heart towards the heavens
and i look for the sliver bright linings, and i think of the nature of leaven
and i close my eyes and i speak His name and i pray for freedom for those stuck in the games
and i try not to feel ashamed ashamed when the tears well up like rain unconstrained
and somewhere there sounds a stupendous thunder and the wrath of the heavens is now untamed

and i wonder who’s hungry tonight and hungry for justice for those who bleed
yet i’m grateful pain can lead to bliss and i know love’s only shown by deeds
and it’s hard not to come undone it’s hard not to come undone
but i know all the colors shine from one sun they all shine from just one sun
and knowing some day we may see You, that someday we all may see You
the darkness don’t seem as hard, not quite as hard to see through

from the point of view of the predator,
nature is kind,
till hunger again
from the point of view of the prey,
nature is cruel
and this is the end
from the point of view of nature itself,
all is in balance without and within

free your self from hunger.
free your self from death.
when seeing Him through His own eyes,
what of self is left?

Horizon does not lift its arms
As though to grab and drag down sky,
Nor turns its interest to the earth
Wherein all men do live and die.

Through waves and mountains doth the gaze
Outward approach this level end
Twirling ecstatic sees that point
Circle back to origin

I’ve spent too much time
tryin to define or wrap
my mind
around the divine design
stead of following the divine signs and feeling
with my heart.
for my mind just parts this from that
never sees the center of the radiant blossom
lost
searching identifying the design of the petals or the petals’ number
while the heart instead settles under in unnatural slumber
tucked with its own petal armor.
in a bud.
on a bush.
… in a seed.

carried by a raven blending black into the night sky,
above.