Don’t come back

If he comes back now, it is too late

The suffering self takes on a different shape.

Deformed by grief, I cannot fit his bed

Yet I remember every word he said

But words will fly away like swallows do

They do not join an I to any you.

A song a lyric music and a voice

We know too much, we’re overwhelmed with choice

Yet all alone our hearts flap seeking out

A bird is trapped inside me,heavy doubt.

My heart is in my throat will it fly high ?

If it leaves me I will surely die

The skeleton of bone, the muscles taut

Keep the heart inside, the danger out.

If you come oh, hold me very still.

I will weep again, until your fillef

A pool of light


Their eyes drew me,
And their eyes draw me again
Into a pool of winter light
Golden from the low sun.
I swim in it
Like a hawk flows on the wind
Over the depths,
Of life.
Contained by a white china cup,
I’m your reflection now
Drowning in the slanting sunlight
Like a stone in a lake.
Falling deeper until I find
the creative mud
with which I mingle
no longer a stone
but a soft flowing stream of sensations
which meets with joy
the earth’s depths and presence.
And something new will grow

The broken lamp

I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose
The top and bottom split when  he fell down
But I can make it look as if it glows

The candle burns with fragrances of rose
That takes away my sadness and my frown
I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose

I find it hard to  bear the pain of loss
The concept is  more verbal than it’s noun
But in my room  the candle  brightly glows

In Blythburgh church, a lighted candle  bless
See, the painted saints wear golden crowns!
I  will bear this breakage and its cost

I will get the strength to bear my cross
Oh,haul me, holy one, if I fall down.
Beyond  these lights we sense  the Light of God

Bless the hand that points us past the known
Where each of us must travel,all alone
I cannot mend the lamp that we both chose
I  stumble in my grief amongst the low

In our own world, what can we represent?

Between the world and how we represent
The nameless by a name and  even  place,
There is a space or void in our intent.

What mother saw, what father really meant
How love and hate might intertwine in space?
In our own world, what can we represent?

In writing, there is lack and letters bent
For  ancient writing often  scholars traced
There is a space or void in our intent.

Today the sun is golden,  gods descend.
With love, for moments, we are all embraced
Of the felt, what can we represent?

Our willingness unblinds the heart so rent
And then we see the face within his face
The space or void lights for this sacrament

I cross my eyes with fingers interlaced:
The crucifix, the love, the death of Christ
Between the world and what we may attempt
There is a space or void where he was sent.