The taste of death alters the soul:

once coolly cautious of its effects,

now we are struck hard by its bold proximity


Once filled with dread at its prospect,

now we are at once infected by,

and yet inoculated against its cruel pangs...

It has become part of our world.


In seeing and knowing we learn yet more to fear it,

but also by familiarity to bear it

as one more part of the perplexing picture

growing before our eyes.


Dust returns to dust,

rising from the devastation of our lives.

Yet while grief and rage would fell us,

Life bids us rise up and go on.


We falter forward, resisting the inner call to despair,

with hope in time and endurance

to soften the sharpest edges of pain.


Now in our souls we bear the mark

of ones who have been touched by death,

and we know in our very beings

that we will never be the same

My soul is turned inside out;

my heart lies bare on the table.

With a careless slice I have thrown it there myself.

When did I become one who destroyed...?


Once when I thought I was wise

I sought to build up, to give & receive,

a living source of life and love to my own.


Foolishly, in the name of loving submission,

of nurturing another's soul and the greater good,

I let his darkness consume me,

blaming myself all the while,

till I could no longer bear it...


In a fury, I came out fighting,

clawing at the air, consumed with rage,

slaying even those who came to me with healing.


Now standing in the carnage

I shudder at the sight

and wish to God that I had rather continued

to turn those claws upon myself

than to have carved up the souls of those I love

and live in desperate knowledge

of the devastation

I have effected upon their hearts and mine.

You, the essence of my heart,

can win me & lose me in one moment,

carefree confidence descending into fear of failure...

an alarming look at the likelihood of loss.


My soul has risen to the immediacy of my mouth

where a touch of your tongue can draw it into your own

or your heedless words send it reeling back

into the dark recesses,

where it hides from the fierce light...

tormented by the longing for another touch.

Long ruled by others' whims,

coerced too much by the force of their convictions,

oddly oblivious to my own...

at last I am determined to set my own course

and establish my own path,

now I walk into the wind, though hurricanes blow.

Falling and staying down is not an option,

so when strong desire & stark reality

seem like strangers passing in the night,

only so vaguely aware of each other,

I must determine whether I will trust

the folly of hope or the certainty of pain

and keep walking no matter what.

Silence feeds the soul...

amidst  the raucous noise of commerce,

-rushing orders, calming nerves, selling slick solutions-

the cry & hue of human drama rises

with disparate dreams & goals,

conflicting heart & understanding;

we hear the news of war and rumors of increasing terror,

and as the arguments of fools rise & fall,

reciting inanity as their sacred mantras,

I pause.

A soft wind rises,

blowing through the the silent air.

Leaves rustle in the simple sunlight

as time is still.

I rest on softness,

and my soul is restored.

What is destiny and where is my control?

Here I walk, think, move, strive…

whether for, or oft against, prevailing winds,

Changing, turning backwards from sun to moon

And back again…

I know it ALL!!

and then doubting...

stand blankly waiting for some missing sign...

Having fallen, does it mean I can not rise?

I will not be counted out!

Knowing now why I fell, I work incessantly,

to turn the wheel in the other direction.

rising limb by limb above the mistakes of my past

Resting to gain more strength at every stop

And breathing ever easier as I rise…