Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck

As I hear the wind blow through the leaves of the ancient cottonwood trees.
And I watch the squirrels gather their nuts and prepare for the coming winter, I'm reminded of a few things that come softly in the whisper of the autumn wind for all to hear, if they listen.

Behind the poem is a poet, a lover, maybe a mother or a father. But most of all there is a human being. They feel, and they love. They have been overwrought with pain. And enraptured by Joy. They need  compassion and friendship and the human touch.
Tread lightly, for you tread upon
their hearts.

I had ideas
And plans
And

the ninth shade
embraces mountain peaks
in the pure clarity of morning

frost clings to sagebrush
in the ascending sunlight
of the third-quarter moon

and as life pauses
to apprehend the spectacle
of a wintry summer morning

my bones feel
the transition of season
as autumn draws near

One day my shattered heart and broken pieces
Will be put back together
And my hands will reach out to
Touch so many lives
And one day the blood I have bled
And tears that have streamed
Will be mementos of all the reasons
That I will change the world.

Learn to love your tears.
They are
falling
for
you.

This may be the last
it may be the best
if not
then the worst
but
at least
they’d say
he did his best
‘til the end.