Monday, August 26, 2013
Yesterday’s sky, a southbound highway;
Thistle fairies and geese in flight,
Suddenly returned them home again,
Arriving safely before last light.
The omen of changing seasons,
This eerie, yet beautiful sight…
Splits the island in two auras,
Half is day, the other night.
The wind, a Mexican import,
Follows the coastline, gathering might
Thistle seeds, the geese and I lay low
As winter repeats its annual rite.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
My memories are inaccurate,
Often arousing me to weep…
Old friends aren’t who I remember,
Their scars and wrinkles deep.
I stand now on a quake fault,
A sinking ship without a hope;
Watching the drifting life raft…
My hands failed to grasp the rope.
What brilliant stars we once were,
I thought we ruled the universe;
Waking now as exploding nova’s,
The “Time continuum”, our curse.
One by one, friend’s lights go dark
No longer the lords of their land…
I dispatched the needed lifeboat;
Again the rope slipped through my hand.
I saw you waiting for the shuttle,
Your embrace caught my wandering eye…
With suitcase you turned, eyes swollen,
From your painfully sad goodbye.
Alone and so embarrassed,
How I witnessed that you cried…
You bravely set off for the airport,
Feeling both hope and death inside.
You knew you’ve found your perfect dream,
This love for your whole life long…
Fearing now while called away,
You may return to find her gone.
I wanted to ease your discomfort,
Console you and wipe your tears…
Tell you not to be embarrassed,
I have lived your pain for years.
Trudy lived with the ghosts of Authors,
Effortlessly reciting each memorized page…
Sharing their words with all listeners,
Her very presence, their venue, their stage.
She lived with an army of Angels,
Reaching out to help others cope,
Fighting the world’s injustices,
Debating always, the pro side of hope.
Her life, a quest for Answers,
Solutions given and remedies sought…
To create a more humane, peaceful world
Where political power was earned, not bought.
We still think of urgent topics,
Though the discussions may never start…
Trudy’s gift to us, her time and intellect,
But her actual presence was her art.
My friend now lives in the cosmos.
Petite on Earth, she now stands tall;
Her intellectual idols, all a gasp,
Realizing their universe, way too small.