The Garden

 

I step through those gates into the garden now

It is where my path has led

After struggling through weeds and thorns

With broad determination

I arrived.

 

And they were widely open.

Painted

With oiled hinges

swinging free

 

Inside

Sitting in the sunlight

On a concrete bench

Across from the fountain

In the center of the courtyard

You were

Waiting for me

To join you

In silence and understanding.

 

You transmit to me

Your thoughts

I transmit mine

We share

Without debate

Argument

Or restraint

Honest

Reality

Truth

Goodness

 

Yes, I say

I know where I must go

I know what it is

You want me to do

I shall do that

For you

I shall.

 

And when I open my eyes

You are gone

I see others

Talking

Milling

 

It is such a big garden

From the fountain

Through the valley

Over mountains

To the sea

There is much to do

I am ready

I stand up

And walk therein.

 

7/19/2001

 

A Prayer

 

Michael,

Bring me healing

Help me see

Give me energy

I once had

To do my work

For thee

Touch me

With your sacred hand

And pass over the power

To exercise

What you give

In this and every hour.

 

7/19/2001

 

Sunset

 

And there they were

The masts

With their halyards

Limp.

It was still.

 

The water,

Like ice.

Frozen solid

Not moving.

 

The gulls,

Above

Sweeping

The quiet.

 

The sun

Closing its eyes

With a reddish

Blink.

 

The clouds

Obeying

Reflecting

Red,

Yellow,

Gray.

 

And the

Deep, deep

Blue.

Turning black

Of the bay.

 

8/21/2001

 

Do you hear?

 

And if nobody reads this

A writer still I will be.

And if nobody feels this

The touch of my fingers

Still reach out.

 

I am young. I am young.

I am younger still.

Forever young.

Filled with will.

Overflowing.

 

I bear the torch

And there I shall be

Touching

Warm

Near.

 

Are we close?

 

Do you hear?

 

8/21/2001

 

 

Resting

 

The man who built this house

Rests in  a churchyard nearby

Woodrow was the name

'Twas a shame he had to die

When he did. But it was pride.

 

The lead that put him down

Rests in the dirt amidst his bones

The dueler who fired it

Also rests alone on a hilltop

Overlooking the honor

He defended oh, so well.

 

The maiden once offended

In a meadow far away

Rests married and rescinded

To a far and distant place

From Delaware to Kansas

In a tough and hardened pace

That was certain to visit

All of those who heard the call

To be settlers of these great United States.

 

The children of that maiden

Rest in cemeteries. In bronzed

And sealed mausoleum cubes

In a far and western groomed,

Lawned and shady place

Where sprinklers turn the

Sunny days to rain, and plastic

Flowers fade into gray.

 

6/20/1997

 

 

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