The Memory of Love

Like water, Love leaves its mark.

Its crumpled indelible sheen

Warms to the touch.

The hand of memory brushes

Ensorcelled pages of its worn book,

Savoring what is locked inside.

Illuminating its delicate pulsing prism.

Little Dish

This little dish is worn out now

Its soft pink glaze is chipped in spots

There is a crack that runs across,

A crescent edge is broke clean off.

Yet I use it often times.

Its pleasant shape of curving edge

So charming and feminine

Can one place gender in a dish?

Perhaps the flavors of foods she held

Have suffused themselves

And given weight of character;

A grand luster to this little Limoges.

Gentle style, pleasing form

All that rest on her adorned as

She carries nourishments with open hand.

Care in handling – perhaps some bandaging

Such damage does command.

Still useful in her artful way

Through a lifetime of bumps and scrapes yet

Her filigree curves smoothly to the touch

The world grows things to throw away

This plate I’ll keep another day.

Through Love and Care

I went to the church and was blessed by the priest

Having long unconfessed thus declined Eucharist.

Singing hymns with great joy

My heart rose to share the evening mass

Filled with Love and Care.

It seems to me as we raise candles high

That the light does shine forth to give us a sign.

Good people rose from their pews

To shake hands with and smile upon each other

Giving Love and Care.

Heading home quiet streets with stores closed for the night

Hoping fam'lies of children all tucked warm and tight

Sweet dreaming of plumbing sugared delights

Cookies are brought from the neighbors to share

Receiving with grace so much Love and Care.

This day of forgiveness and spiritual lift

May move the remorseful to understand their blessed gifts.

Let us come awake and aware of our light

To live with each other with Love and Care.

Talk

There is a friend I can talk to.

We can talk about anything.

He listens, I listen.

He comments, I comment.

We can go on about stuff.

It’s cool.

I think that we agree on some things but

We don’t need to know what they are.

Reborn

If you remembered everything

You would weep.

There is the time I pulled you from

Your burdensome cross

Then held you in my arms and let you

Rest in my dark, quiet heart until

You were reborn.

You had the strength of a world

And all was forgiven;

We began anew.

Then I transgressed.

You waited too long in the car.

Remembering only my gun at your head

Murdering you with time.

Yet I know you were already

Close to remembering everything.

Sea of Shells

Why are shells so fragile

Yet withstand the weight

Of the ocean and shifting sands?

Endlessly tumbled and scrubbed

To the beat of the Earth's heart.

Yet they will bloody the hand

Of the one who tries to pry.

Are hearts close cousins to the

Sea of shells – small fortresses

Those oysters when carelessly

Tossed about. Take pains to

Open gently. Harsh tides will

Shut this heart up tight; same

As the mighty clam. Yet through

An ocean of turmoil will rise to

Offer pearls of love again.

Pounding The Pavement (for my Father)

Things remind me— Little things.

Sometimes

the simplest of sounds or

sights or a color of light

nudges a thought.

The time of day casts your shadow.

A word or flavor on the tip of my

tongue– suddenly you appear gazing

at me with your comments and the

sound of your voice reminds my ears of

how much they miss you.

I want to drop down and pound

the pavement with my fists till it

cracks open to release you and

bring you up from the dust,

bring you back to the world so

you can fix things again. And

I will stand there dutifully, happy

to hold a flashlight for you into the

dark night while you work.