10 Monday Sep 2018
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
Afterlife, Death, Death Poems, Eternity, Hope, Infinite, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Souls, Yearning
Sometimes, missing feels like stone,
a fear that what seems over,
really is over. To be alone,
is no small thing, even though,
it seems, we always are.
Between us, an invisible thread
throws itself out, and stretches—
have you seen a silk thread
blowing itself out with the wind,
reaching, reaching—how far it reaches,
attached to nothing, but air.
09 Sunday Sep 2018
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30 Tuesday Sep 2014
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Tags
Authenticity, Belief, Courage, Death, Fear, God, Infinite, Life, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Rain
there is a reason
being in nature
makes us healthy
we find the infinite
under trees and clouds and sun
the rain wetting our skin
in that moment we don’t worry
about getting wet
belief is found
courage is found
30 Tuesday Sep 2014
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Tags
Death, Dying, Finite, Horses, Infinite, Irish Wolfhound, Stars, Why Death Scares Us
What’s the worst thing, she asked,
About dying?
The stars, I said, As I leave the barn,
My horses, buried nose-deep in Timothy.
The pounding dirt, I said,
The Irish Wolfhound’s lope,
And the dust of her joy.
My children, I said, Their hate of me,
Then, their love of me.
I will miss all of that.
What’s the scariest thing, she asked,
About dying?
It ends in dust, I said,
That upon my death,
I really die.
That I am finite, and not
Like the stars,
That all I am, all I know,
All I feel, is less than the dust
Of the stars, I said.
26 Tuesday Aug 2014
Posted in Uncategorized
I remember what it was like
To be unstricken,
To think my life would go on,
To think I was owed a spot here,
And that spot was permanent.
Once your body lets the thing
Grow, you understand something else,
That mercy comes in miracles:
The Canada Geese overhead are miracle,
The smell of your son’s hair is miracle,
The arms of your friend wrapped ’round you,
Saying, it will be okay, is miracle.
Love is a miracle.
That we can be loved is a miracle.
I asked only that I’d see my son graduate,
And I did. That is a miracle.
I am a stricken one.
I was stricken long ago.
I’m part of the great finite,
And I’m part of the great forever,
So in need of mercy,
So thankful for miracles.
Bits of Poetry 