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Monday, April 23, 2012

A Stranger

I am a stranger in your land
A wide-eyed pilgrim
On soil not my own
And possessed of a dream
Beyond the machinery
Of manufacture
Attainable only
By providence.

My footprints are lost
In the foam of silvery tides
Hidden among forest floors
And stone canyons

I am brother to the wolf
Known to elk and otter
I am kin to laughter and music
Friend to morning stars
And the sweat of the tiller’s brow.

I am a child of the dew
Son of virgin forests
The progeny of rivers
And a creature of storms
Flashing lightening
Resonate thunder.

I ask only the right
To stand among you
To breathe the air
Drink the water
And leave you better
Than I found you.

I own little
And want nothing.
I am a stranger here
Passing quickly
Leaving no trail
Taking nothing
But the knowledge
That I was among you
A simple man.
A stranger.

Give Them Back

Memories crowd
Of days past
When I was a younger man
Filled with strength
Energy
For all that was mine
To care for
To love
And protect.

Give me back
The tender years.
When my babies cooed in the cradle
And sucked on their mother’s breast
The precious years
When laughter filled our house
And they tottered
Room to room
Happy in their innocence.

Give them back.

Those were hungry years
Nights of passion
And days of dreams.

Give them back.

I held hours lightly
Never imagining
They would flee
And my children scatter
Like squirrels in the trees.

Give them back.

The only hope
For an old man
Is that he may dream tonight
Clutching memories
Like gems in his hands
And give them back.

Monday, April 2, 2012

The Room

I sit alone and stare
At my wall of flaking paint
Thinking, in it, I see your face
Images both strong and faint.

On the ceiling I count panels
One hundred and fifty two
The very number of days
I was to spend with you.

I still smell your fragrance
In this little room
Which has become my hideaway
My shelter, and my tomb.

On the floor is a ragged carpet
That once listened to your voice.
It heard you say goodbye
The night you made your choice.

Today I watch shadows
Paint patterns on the wall.
Maybe, if I wait long enough
You may give me a call.

It’s as though nothing happened
In this crumbling little space
Though in every corner
I think I see your face.

How empty is this room
Once so filled with you
But is now completely vacant
Like an evening without dew.

With my back against the wall
I must close my eyes to see
This place, once so full of happiness
Was a mansion for you and me.