He told me I could search the world over and I would never find anything anywhere quite like him

I'm a Leo  

So I took that as a challenge and headed out on a journey

I returned to his door two and a half years later triumphant

When he opened his door I stated with pride "I did it!"  

"Prove it." he demanded quietly leaning against his door frame, looking, both intrigued and unconvinced.

I took off my back pack, set it on the step, reached in, carefully withdrew a mason jar and passed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked

"You."

"It's an empty mason jar."

"It's not at all empty. It's filled to the brim with all the stuff you're made of."

"Oh? What kind of stuff?"

" Inside that bottle is the magic of a rainbow I found in Greenland, star light I found in the North West Territories, wind from each of the four corners, air that's been caressed by butterfly wings from St. Lucia, sun beams from Samoa, the innocence of a newborn from Uruguay, the passion of a gypsy from Romania, the heat of a thunder bolt from South Carolina, the fragrance of the first bloom of summer from England, the poetic joy of Ireland, and one salty tear of a mermaid from Fiji.  You."  I said again triumphantly

"All that's in here, eh?"

I nodded.

"Well, you must be tired, being right can be exhausting." he said with a grin as he reached out for my hand

"It is and I am." I admitted placing my hand in his

"Would you like to come in?"

" Yes, I would like to come in. I'd like that very much."

There's a stirring when old ways start to whisper
Almost without a hint of knowing

Despite very good intentions
Despite diligence

When the whispers start ...

... Do we listen?
Or do we explain it away?

"Probably just a creak in an old joint settling ... just one of those noises old vessels make in the midst of the darkest hours...it's nothing."  a voice will often offer up in the hope of silencing vigilant angels.

After all we're all big boys and girls. We can do this on our own.

*Right?

“Advance!” I shouted
That **** monkey wouldn’t budge, not even to look me in the eye

“Insolent decrepit brat!Advance!”

Still that monkey did nothing

“Advance, I say! Do you hear me? Advance!”

“No.” said the monkey

“No?” I asked incredulously

“No.”

“And why not?” I demanded

“Because” said the monkey “you did not say please.”

No matter if our heads
Are tipped left or right
Or whether you’re examined
During the day or the night
There sits you, our dusty debris
Remnants of decisions made much to hastily

Consequential Residue

There you are but what to do?
Do we approach from the front?
Or approach from the rear?
But what if we capture you?
What then should we do?

Do you have a sense of humour?
Can we laugh you away?
Or are you pious and proper
And require that we pray?
Or do you require more effort than even of that
Of the continual sweeping of your creepage back under our mats

Should we bag and tag?
Or toss off the bridge?
Should we mount your head?
Or stick you to the door of our fridge?
It is just so very much to decide

**Whether to display ... or whether to hide

She was still trying to figure out  "expectation".

When getting up in the morning she expected things;  a floor under her feet,  loved ones looking relatively the same as they did the night before, the car starting, etc, etc, etc. And the fact they continued to happen encourages expectation.

Expectation has a dark side though, and she had been bitten by expectations she'd placed on others that had not been met,  and she'd experienced hurt and shame at the not being able to meet other's expectations of her and her own unrealistic expectations she placed upon herself and had been crushed under.

But she wondered, "What if expectations are direct natural by-products of our chosen daily routines? Simply those ways of being we all have, created from options presented and found, and from preferences and passions explored and simply require that we be mindful that we do not crush others or find ourselves crushed under the weight of the unrealized.

What if it's also consciously making the shift from impatiently waiting for the appearance of a Happily Ever After, to rolling up sleeves, digging in and getting busy with the messy process of creating her own Happiness After.

I have to say that I love life
I love walking outside and drinking in the seasons
Smelling the scents indigenous to our island
Even with my eyes closed I can know I'm home

Catching up with friendly faces
All of nature mixing and mingling
A cacophony of natural rhythms
That dance off  breath and pound from chests

The sound of  each snowy step taken reminds
That there is hope for tomorrow
That there is hope for today
That there is hope for yesterday

Purpose filled living that grows deeper and stronger
Grabbing life by the hips and drinking thirstily from her mouth
Striding wholly into the stratum of a living, feeling, breathing being
Thrusting into the wonder that is yesterday, today and tomorrow

I have to say that I love life

When I walk down to the shore and it rises to greet me

I get caught up in those moments
Those moments when we both grow in size and grandeur
Just from the knowing of one another

The recognition
The reclaiming
The owning

And as I undress and expose hidden places
It crashes at my feet and reveals undercurrent treasures

The words were not there
But something was stirring deep within
Insanity or brilliance, perhaps both
Understanding the fullness of its urgency has never come

I put pen to paper and wrote anyhow

I wrote what I saw within
Heaven and Earth
Unlaced and dancing
Beating upon internal drums ... I could barely hear

I put pen to paper and wrote anyhow

And though I am sure of very little
I am certain of one thing
That you and I, are pieces of all of this
This primal dance of Heaven and Earth

*So I put my pen to paper and I write anyhow

Tell me...

Before you close your eyes
Tell me of today's miracles
Did you part the Red Sea
Still the sun and the moon
Bring back to life what was dead and gone

Tell me...

Where will you keep these miracles of yours
What will you do with them
Will you weave them together and sleep under them
Will you carve them in red stone and build a Tower

Little one, little one come to me
Little one come to me
The evening birds they sing their song
And the sky is kneeling down
And the sky is kneeling down

Will you build a Tower so tall
That it stands high for everyone to see
So that you never forget
And always remember
So that your legend becomes a page in humanities story

Little one, little one come to me
Little one come to me
The evening birds they sing their song
And the sky is kneeling down
And the sky is kneeling down

Tell me...

Before you close your eyes
Tell me of today's miracles

There was a wilderness about her that was savage in its intensity
The woman's spit was fluid fire ~ liquid desire

Blight was found on her roots
It would give rise to a most loathsome shadow

They unite!

The swish swish sound of snowpants as sure thighs stride
The crunch of wet snow under boots
The disobedient strands of hair escaped  from her mother's tightly braided handiwork
Whipping about according to the wind's will
Runny nose, watering blue eyes, and cheeks reddened to a rosy apple glow by winter's puppy dog nip

Intent on a snowfort and snow angel mission
With no break taken except to quench a thirst once in a while
Eyes close and mittens lift the glorious white mannah
Tongue and mouth delight in the taste of winter that the snow carries deep within her hold
Could any wonder be more beautiful than the bliss of an eight year old on a storm day?

When she entered his room she found him seated on the edge of his bed with the curtains drawn. The room was dark, gloomy and smelled of tired air and night sweats. "A no sunlight zone in here today or can I open a window?" she asked gently.

"Do as you please" came from a throat constantly hoarse from years of misusing alcohol, cigarettes and another night of yelling in his sleep.

She moved quickly across the room, pulled back the curtains and opened the window before he had a chance to change his mind. "Why do you say that?" she asked taking a moment to inhale the fresh June air. Lungs full, she turned and seated herself beside him. "It's such a beautiful day. Won't you come and sit by the window, if only for a few minutes?"

"Why? What difference do you think it'll make?"  he raised the pointer finger of his left hand to his temple and tapped. "There are times when the darkness is in here, there isn't any light, not behind curtains, not at the end of some ******* tunnel ..."  his voice trailed off  "... not anywhere."

A softly knitted "Oh, I see," slipped from her lips and trailed off upon a welcomed breeze that had entered through the open window. It waltzed around the room gathering as it swirled, carrying off their words, adding them to bits of red dust and scents of ocean, barbeque, and freshly mowed grass.  She loved the intrusion, the smells of the warm world just beyond these walls reminded her of the importance and value of small joys.

"I think I   should make you   a  paper moon," she spoke thoughtfully as though her idea were being pieced together as her words formed.  "Yes,   a paper moon,    one with a little red paper heart inside ... small enough to fit in your wallet   and on days when," he watched her struggle for the right words "... it's dark,   you'll have a backup  supply of light and love   right in your own back pocket."

"My God she's odd." he thought and said so. But it didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.  She just laughed and smiled then leaned in and added in a conspiratorial whisper "But I'm the very best sort of odd ..."

"Oh?" he asked with his first, almost smile of the day. "There are various sorts of odd?"

"Absolutely!"

"But you're the very best sort?"

"Absolutely!"

"And exactly what sort are you?"

"The harmless and crafty sort. Did I tell you?" She looked over her shoulders and then leaned in and whispered, "I can make the most wonderful paper moons?"

He turned his head away and facing the wall, he asked "Why are you so kind to me?"

"I have kindness in me to give and I believe you need it. So makes sense to give it, doesn't it?"

"There's lots of folks in this place needing kindness. Don't let me keep you."

She stood up, crossed to the door, turned and smiled, "Okay. Shall I come to see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah ... Why not?"

As she walked out into the hallway he called after her "Hey! Odd Duck, if you're feeling crafty tonight ... I'll take one of those paper moons of yours."

This morning he leaned in
And stole a kiss from my sleepy lips
I looked up into warm brown eyes
And I saw God visiting there

Smiling
Loving
Seeking

So I kissed him
And discovered that he also
Had a pocket full of lightening
Oh my ...

Let us think about the caring we receive
Each tender moment, small and large
From family and friends and even strangers

Kindnesses are no small thing
They touch our days with grace and joy
They refresh our hearts and souls as water does our flesh

May I always come to the wellspring of your kindness
Each tender moment, small and large
With head bowed in reverence for the beauty of what you share

There is a love
Growing deep inside
Rolling at the edges of me
Like the dunes

Rising higher than the tall grass
That shelters shy lovers

When I close my eyes
I dream of making love to you
Can you feel the pull of
This love inside my heart

Surging ~ Swelling ~ Crashing
A yearning that erodes boundaries

Lover, can you hear the call of my ocean
My tide rising to meet you
Wade into my deep waters
Lacy froth rushing upon the shore

I am eager to know the touch of your warm flesh
Let me cradle you between my waves

Absolvi*


I will swallow whole; the heads, the tails and guts of all offenses committed upon me and those committed upon others, by me.

I will absorb the energy of these dark offenses ~ the poison, the pain, the betrayal, the shame, the hurt, the fury, the fear, the indifference.

I will gather heavy chains that I forged in order to carry dark offenses with me and I will free myself and all the others I had shackled to them.

I will allow those offenses, those dark pages of my story, their rightful place in my history.

I will build each offense their own tomb in my bones and marrow. Every last weighty moment lived, will have its own burial site and marker.

I will lay flowers and walk away ~ head high ~ eyes clear ~ heart open.

I will allow them to rest in peace and stop dragging what has already been written to clean pages.

I will use clean pages for new parables and legends.

I will put away the widow's blacks and veil and wholly reconnect with the living, mindful of my many blessings and my need to bless.

I will remind myself daily of the importance of remaining curious and alive to reason and choice with complete focus of head, heart, body and soul.

I will enter into a new and untouched land~ My own "State" of grace ~

And I will reign sovereign over my own life with soft step, shrewd eye, love and reverence.

It is so

At touch

Backs arch
Atoms flare

Limbs unravel
Eyes reveal

Lips like pink petals open
Mouths filled to overflowing

Still  there is no sound
Other than their uneven breathing

Moments that affect us so deeply we are moved beyond words

Walking Down
Richard’s Road
A salty breeze
Welcomes him home
The lost returns
A child again
A bare footed heart and Soul

Pretty Roadside flowers
Your tiny heads bent in
Evening Prayer
Kindly remember our names
As your fragrant blessings fill the air

Setting sun’s
Rosy glow
Pouring through
Weathered Birch trees
Rose Coloured light
Flickers through
Warming leaves and his  memories

Pretty Roadside flowers
Your tiny heads bent in
Evening Prayer
Kindly remember our names
As your fragrant blessings fill the air

Evening Falls
Soft and cool
Taking his hand
They walk once more
Down over cliffs
Red and high
Yes they walk once more
Down to Richard’s Shore

*Pretty Roadside flowers
Your tiny heads bent in
Evening Prayer
Kindly remember our names
As your fragrant blessings fill the air