Apparently

We give those we love
Power to destroy us.
All others we protect against.
All others are kept distant.

Those we love
Know how weak
How vulnerable we are.

We show them our tender places
Where the blood is most near the surface.
We give the ones we love the poison
Most lethal
We put the knife
The gun
In their hands
The words
On their lips
The traitor’s caress
In their touch.

Strangers have never pained me.
But the ones I love
Have grievously wounded me
Again and again.

And I foolishly give them
Opportunity
To do it right next time.

Apparently
I would rather die
Than pretend I am not loved
As much as I love.

I Did Not Blink

The night was like iron
On the platform
Where the offender and I waited.

A point of light
A mile down track
Marked the inbound train.

My thoughts hung
Like mist
In the midnight air.

I thought of his brutality
The scars on the body
Of his wife.

I thought of the damage
To her trembling soul
Her fractured heart.

He was apprehended
Before he began
A fresh assault.

I trembled too.
Not because of fear.
I shook with murder.

Rage pulsed within.
I hated this man
This creature beside me.

I wanted him in a cold cell
But he had yet
To inflict his fresh hell.

We were moving him
Down the tracks
Out of town.

Be careful
I said
You may fall
In front of that train.
The engineer can’t see you.
You’ll die.
You'll be dead.

Dead.
Dead.

He laughed at me.
I grabbed his arm fiercely
Shifting him toward the edge
Of the platform
My left shoulder
Shoving into his right.
The train’s bell clanged
The smell of diesel
And a fresh chill
Having nothing to do with the cold
Filled the air.

Bile rose from my gut
To the back of my throat
The silver and blue engine
Growing as large as my hate.

The engine passed.
The Metra slowed
Then stopped
The door sliding open.
Florescent light
Poured out
Like blood gushing
From the wounds of his wife.

The monster stepped inside
Turning toward me.

Could you really do it?
He asked.

I did not blink
Until the door closed
And he was gone.

Only My Eyes

A ghost haunts these halls
She wafts through the night
She dances these walls
An ethereal light.

Her vanilla scent
Hangs in the air
Wherever she went
That fragrance was there.

I still hear the sound
Of her playful laugh
As we lay on the ground
Near the pond, off the path.

My lips feel her kiss
My body her touch
And, oh how I miss
Her loving so much!

That was long ago
But this is today
And this thing I know
She won’t go away.

I’ve been on my knees
Seeking for grace
For mercy upon mercy
To forget her face.

As the lights dim tonight
She will return to me
And glow in that light
Only my eyes may see.

Who Was That Man?

Who was that man
Dancing with you
As the sun slowly eased
To the sea?

Who was that man?
I know in my heart
Whoever he was
He was not me.

Who was that man
That lay with you
In ebony nights
So long ago?

Who was that man
That followed you
No matter when or where
You might go?

Who was that man
With your name on his lips
Who craved your
Taste and your scent?

Whoever he was
He’s lost to you now
He’s gone
And you can’t know where he went.

Time to Cry

My thoughts betray me.
Much silence
Lends to sorrow
And sorrow
Seeks something
To dull the blade
To reduce my wails
To whimpers.

Where is comfort?

My ears fill with noise
The static of life
Which diverts pain.
But its value is fleeting.
Pain from within
May be delayed
But never denied.

There must be time to cry.

So I give myself to silence
That silence might produce
A weight of sorrow
That sorrow fulfilled
Might work within
The peculiar satisfaction
That I have not slighted
The crying pain
Which knows my frame
And calls name.

Brother Michael *

Brother Michael
How I miss you.
How I ache in memory
Of every day we
Shared together
And the love you gave to me.

You were, Michael
A devoted brother
Also a cherished friend
But time expired
And you left us.
Our time together came to end.

How I grieved you
Brother Michael
Yet steadfast in my heart.
How I loved you
Brother Michael
Every day since we did part.

But you left
The path before me
Every twist and narrow turn
From the point
Of your departure
The cool of night or noontime burn.

I took up the cross
That you lay down.
I accepted your unfinished task.
All these years
And decades later
I still do what Jesus asks.

Brother Michael
Please wait for me
Just inside inside the open gate.
I will see you
When death takes me.
I’ll not be one minute late.

* Michael was my very best friend all through high school.
He loved God, and was well beyond his years in devotion and
wisdom. He was not just a friend. He was a mentor, and a
brilliant teacher. Michael died a month before our graduation.
Before he died of inoperable cancer he challenged me to live
my life for the Lord. I've tried to be true to my promise.
His memory is still dear to me. I wish you could have known him.
Maybe one day I'll get to introduce you to him. The closer I get
to leaving here, the more defined the far shore seems.

And Forever, Too

Ask and I will bring you the horizon.
The panoply of stars is yours.
I will fetch the dawn
And lay before you
The sweetness of creation.

The notes of symphonies
I will fashion into gold for you.
Melody will attend you
And poetry celebrate your footfall.

Yours are the shimmering Auroras.
Your path will be lit with song
And joy will comfort you.

This is yours
And forever, too...

If you will lift your eyes to mine.

Embarkation

I dwell among the desolate
In the feral fierceness
And wild shadow
Of rock and dune.

Chambray skies weep light
And creation is baked
In torrents
Of radiance.

This rawness
Is embarkation
Where all begins
Whose endings are transient.

Sound has no meaning here.
There is but the aroma
Of baked sands
And visions of shimmering mirage.

I receive the ardor
Of this intentionality.
Every small creature has purpose here.
Even me.

Old Age

I breathe sun
And exhale frost.
I think rum
But taste milk.

Age is contradiction.

Experience suggests competency
But society thinks me frail
My mind foggy
My body irrelevant.

It used to frustrate me.
Now I smile
Content with these truths:

Nothing about me requires proof.
Those I care for know my value.

Bland is first a state of mind
Becoming habit only with practice.

To the frozen any warmth is welcome.

If the mind cannot accompany the body
It doesn’t matter where the body dwells.

If the body is immobile
Everything is possible in the mind.

Let winter come.
The fire blazes in my hearth
As well as in my belly.
I welcome old age.
It is, after all, always one year older
Than I am.

A Glimpse at the Monarch

Several have asked about my Monarch Butterfly. I have also referred to her as my “Ghost.” She is at the core of much of my poetry, though I am uncertain she knows. Maybe she visits this site. I don’t know. She will always be my muse.

Thirteen years ago I was in bad shape. A traumatic brain injury, while not robbing me of physical abilities, did leave me in extreme neural pain. Often the pain would mimic a heart attack, and leave me writhing in agony. I was alone in a world of hurt. Admiral Hyman Rickover famously said, “God, your sea is so big, and my boat is so small.” I understood that. And then came Monarch. She flitted into my life with grace and ease. But I was a bitter, hard man, packed with anger and disillusion. I trusted no one. But Monarch loved me. She did so without boundary, and loved me with grace and ease. She was cold water to a parched man. I loved her. We were together less than a year. Most things transitional are also sudden. Her gift to me was not in letting me love her. That was easy. Her gift was teaching me I was worth loving. She restored my dignity. The man I’ve become is due to Monarch. I learned love’s amazing truth…if you can let one person love you, you can also open yourself to the world.

Monarch’s are migratory in nature. And like her namesake, she could not stay. Neither could I impose my will upon her. She left on a Christmas Eve. I have neither seen, nor heard from her since. But she changed me. I wish I could tell you more. The story begs revelation, and were it up to me, I’d tear away the veil and let you see her in all her beauty. But I promised her I would hold her in my heart, for me only. A gentleman keeps his promises. But when you read my love poems, you’ll see Monarch in my garden. It’s best to let the regal creatures fly. They are much more pleasing when they paint the sky with color. They are not so beautiful with their wings pinned, lifeless, under glass.

Thank you for your kind expressions concerning my craft. I enjoy sharing my thoughts, and it gratifies me if you can see something of yourself in my words. I've learned the world is often cold, and dangerous. But it can also be beautiful and amazing. We live between the extremes. I wish you beauty. I wish you peace. But most of all, I wish you love. You're worth it.

~~ James