Too often we hasten to speak
when we should faithfully
keep a silent watch of love.
Too often we scramble to fix
when we should tenderly
hold another’s pain in trust.
16 July to 26 November 2011
Ghost Ranch, NM
Staples Mill Amtrak Station
Richmond, VA
Filed under Poem
Poised
on Advent’s cusp,
I wonder,
I watch,
I prepare to wait.
26 November
Staples Mill Amtrak Station
Richmond, VA
Filed under Poem
Hearts broken,
hearts betrayed,
hearts wounded,
hearts abused,
hearts violated,
hearts shattered,
hearts rejected,
hearts despised,
on this day
and everyday,
may each heart,
may every heart,
find some place,
find some people,
to call home.
23 November 2011
Amtrak 91
Filed under Poem
Somewhere north of Newark
(but could be most anywhere, USA)
you sit:
a windows broken,
interior gutted,
paint peeled,
iron rusted,
graffiti marked,
empty building.
As the train rolls by I wonder:
What did you house in your prime?
What have you witnessed in your time?
23 November 2011
Amtrak 91
Filed under Poem
The doors open when
the number three train
grinds to a stop in Times Square.
Passengers pile out,
passengers pile on the cars,
filling the lungs of the train.
After the exchange, refreshed,
the train pulls from the station,
resuming its uptown journey.
15 November 2011
Times Square
Filed under Poem
Deep into the night we talked,
expending countless words
yet never able to overcome
the shattering silence
of the words left unsaid.
2 November 2011
DL 2181
Filed under Poem
As a dazzling pool
of gold, red, and bronze
swallows the sun,
the pilot reluctantly concedes
yet another race
and banks the plane toward
the nearest airport
and the consolation prize:
a safe landing.
26 October 2011
DL 2044
MSP – SMF
Filed under Poem
Faithless
have I been, for longer
than I will acknowledge publicly;
but tonight, for at least this night,
the season of neglect,
the days of abandonment ended, and I
returned.
The gym
asked no questions,
expressed no words of reproach; simply
welcomed me with open arms
as though no time had passed:
grace abounded, unconditional love
expressed.
And yet,
at times, not always, but at times
it seemed that I could see,
the eyes of the third treadmill on the right
fighting back tears
that stirred from depths of
regret.
25 October 2011
Shire on the Hudson
with thanks to Laura VanDale
I wrote this a number of years ago. A question about whether we should rejoice at the death of Muammar Qadhafi called it to mind. I wrote shortly after the 2003 Canal Hotel bombing that killed Special Representative of the UN Secretary-General to Iraq Sergio Viera de Mello and over 20 others, including the suicide bomber. The events are dated; the concerns remain real.
Polished,
charming,
kind,
dignified,
working to build a better world,
we readily recognize
diplomat Sergio Viera de Mello
as a child of God.
Known only
by a final act
of evil desperation,
we strain
through our horror, grief, and revulsion
to comprehend that
the unknown bomber
is God’s child too.
In fathomless mystery,
God who made and loved
the bomber,
the diplomat,
and everyone who perished
in deafening roar and blinding flash,
in smoke and rubble,
now holds them all securely in the arms of grace.
And we are left
to weep,
to mourn,
to wonder,
to struggle for some shred of understanding,
and to take up anew
the seemingly endless task
of seeking justice and wholeness
for all God’s children.
August 2003
Shire near the Ohio
Filed under Poem
The willow,
driven mad by
thirst it cannot quench
via its root system,
dips its branches into
Harlem Meer.
Central Park
22 October 2011
Filed under Poem
Along the Graybeard Trail 