Light Their Way

Teach them to smile, don't they know they are only children? A baby smiles in his sleep without responsibility to graciousness but with a dependent sense of security and faith in the love of his guardians. When does the laughter die and the children cease their play? Have THEY laughed? Have THEY played? Do they remember a time? Surely a memory can turn a dimpled cheek upward even if their eyes tell another truth. Maybe this is all they know - hungry in the womb, hurting in the world.

In Your Eyes

What did you not see when you thought of me

Blinded by words dividing and conquering dueling at equal pace with same quickness of the draw
Minus luck plus curse cerebral fraternity great and damning
Expectations adamant relentless resolve

Synergic power of sibling rivalry depleted by individualism at any cost
Freedom for you conformity for me
Islands unto ourselves deficit of goods and economy
Walled borders heightened fears generational suspicions perpetuated

Blessings of father and mother lived for and died for each of us claiming them in our corner
Wishing them here glad they are not
What would they think we think we know
Twenty years may have changed them
It has us

Battles nuclear warriors gray souls blue survivors
Fresh green tender verdant among ashes beasts at the ready quests determined
Brothers and sisters veteran to damage and casualty

Rage on your losses have been great my failures as much
Your early morning wail in that July hell is fresh Gahena to me
Our gentle giant hewn down how could I ever be for you
Like the greatest man we barely knew

Our lady of virtue creation of joy and mirth precious above all that we valued
She would be there with the hand of wisdom
Cool palm upon our raised brows of bitterness
The look of love sufficient to heal

Sad Sallie Girl

Sad Sallie, latchkey collie, your matted pelt baptized by forest dew, a witness to your rendezvous through dark nights and lonesome days. Your feet, swift to mischief, know the way to the house of compassion. The hands that feed and hearts that bleed dwell there and are not raised against your sweet face or turned cold toward your need. Rest breathes whispers of stillness and comfort yawns wide, a prelude to immoveable slumber in the porch chair. Yet, what charity redeems, reality challenges. Another day, one that is not your own, to make or be made as you please. Your eyes belie your unassumming loyalty to masters underserving and plead with darting glances to stay. Your call to go home, instinctive and perpetual moves you reslolutely and regrettably. Assurance and approbation, longed for of more familiar surroundings, fills the hole of rejection but is sacrificed for the fleeting hope of the acceptance and natural affection of those you really need.

Monuments

I saw, standing irreverently built on hallowed ground, ground which unceremoniously gathered the blood of all, gray and blue, white and brown, ground on which blood spilled has washed away that of a child rescued by this mother’s balms for scraped knees and stubbed toes. I saw standing, reverance of a sort in this concrete and synthetic existence, one holy with it’s materialistic fulfillment provided, oh for woe.