Privy To

“Why did you leave me here,” she yelled,
“I hate you most of all!”
Tears in his eyes, he told her, “I love you,
And you get hurt each time you fall.”

He brought raspberries from their garden
He picked fresh that very morning.
Their life survived for 55 years until,
Time stopped it, with little warning.

Only one of many residents,
Torn suddenly from their home…
Now a roommate with a hundred,
Finding themselves, in a crowded room alone.

Gale had a heart attack, and Patty,
Lost her hearing, then her thoughts,
Hildred has her memories of resistance,
Anti-war buttons and life’s whatnots.

Ed remembers, still he has a wife,
She lives right down the hall…
Regrets the last sixty-two years,
Regrets that one decision, most of all.

East wing has their best stories to tell,
Of earlier friends, now late.
Some give in to the nothingness,
Others fight for a curious fate.

Patty forgot just where she is,
George shakes his fist with rage,
At a place where time still matters,
But disintegrates with age.

A generation younger,
I stop to tie a woman’s shoe….
With a cinematic vision, privy
To my own end, in plain view.

Liver Spots

Liver Spots

We stood in line for forty years,
Mourning those who did not survive the waiting;
Or see it…the Leonard Cohen concert in the United States.

We experienced new pets and presidents,
Raised families and buried some, all while waiting,
In line to see this long anticipated, Leonard Cohen Concert.

He climbed the stairs and knocked on the world’s door,
His words still true, were worth the waiting,
From this frail, spry man with mic held up by liver spots.

His songs are about faith and the future,
Though his liver spots a hint of finite life, and more waiting.
Soon after this, we are on our own rhyme and slipping time.

Thank you old skin, for the final ceremony of life;
The funerals of our best years, those we spent in waiting…
Enriched by these memories of time well spent waiting.

When Suzanne leads you to the river,
The tea and oranges still taste so right, but waiting
At the river’s banks, it is time to bid adieu, goodnight.

I guess I am very angry; exposed to your advancing age.
You were always so honest, but while we were waiting,
I danced; ignoring your words of seasons, this world, and time.

Cruel Lessons

Otis walks in a world of change,
Corporate nations fight for power…
He bucks in fun like a pony,
Then stops to sniff a flower.

Little white boots march,
Down the beach road late at night.
When in a Boxer’s innocence,
He spies a rabbit, with delight!

He freezes, body in full alert,
A catch like that would make his day…
My sixty years of wisdom know,
Some rabbits always get away.

Still Otis thinks the hunt is pure,
He prepares, fine tuning his art…
I allow myself this tug of war,
Rather than break his heart.

While Otis discovers a greatness,
In a world where my dreams feel spent…
He shows me the joys of new wonders,
Worth the price, he’s heaven sent.

Ceremony Interrupted

Forty-five years I filled my glass,
Then lit a cigarette…
I sank into a private place,
That I’m still missing yet.

Few men know the beauty,
Or the sound a struck flint makes,
The spark, the deep inhale,
With a side of Hostess Cakes.

The Saddest Picture

“The saddest picture in the world today”,
Boasted the New York Times.
The photo was highly reminiscent of,
Most natural and human crimes.

I remember well the Blue Jay bite,
Severing the Guinea chick’s head.
The neighbor’s dog in the geese and hens,
Decorating the farm’s lawn with the dead.

Today a black crow perched nearby,
Blood dripping red death from the beak,
There is no peace in nature I know,
Yet still I search and endlessly seek…

The knowledge somewhere peace exists.
Love lasts now and forever after…
I no longer like to hear the gull’s,
The clocks, and the reaper’s laughter.

My Notebook

I collected daily miracles,
In an envelope, I called hindsight.
Reviewed them every year that passed,
To live them over, make them right.

I collected my friend’s stories,
Forgave those who wounded me,
Constructed moral decisions,
So many deeds no one could see.

I collected a vault of miracles,
Hindsight, a light so bright…
Lately I sneak out to the beach
Dumping these envelopes at night.

The clouds race by above me,
At warp speed above the sand…
Or is it the world is falling apart;
Clouds steady, over slipping land.

The Shaman in the Woods

The Shaman I found in the woods today,
Was intimidating, yet I spoke…
“How beautiful you fit in this place,
With your fern and moss covered cloak.”

“How out of place you seem here,
Standing where I once stood…”
He continued, “I reached the heavens once,
Before becoming mere fallen wood.”

I thought him so much more than that,
“You’re a universe, far from alone,
The squirrels, beetles, worms and birds,
All claim you as their home.”

“Yes, that’s the secret of life,” he said,
“My essence you plainly see.
None of us, were ever pure mortals,
Thank you old man,
for reminding me.”