Could leave this world peaceful and shriven,
Be glad somehow those old debts of mine
Must now be ledgered and forgiven.

Watching loved ones work their sad old days
The land of death now beckons and sobers me
Enough to think I will follow in their way;
And to consider how I might leave free.

Of more than the sins Jesus has taken,
And more than payments owed to friends.
No, how to leave a sweetness unshaken
In my loved ones, my wife, and my kin?

I think I've some letters I need to compose,
Some arguments I've held too close to me,
And any odd embroilment that rose
While I was on my earthly power spree.

I'm 65, a scant ten years from average death
Of men my type and height and weight.
I'm sobering quickly as I count my breath
And know re-calibrating cannot wait.

We leave not in shouting, not in banging;
Rather, we leave whimpering, most of us.
Forgetting what we thought important,
The gut ache and the nagging cough
From us wrench sentience.

The dimming sounds, the fading lights
Take one-time treasures, held so dear,
Move them away, far out of mind.
What little hold we fast, we cannot think
To speak, though children lean in close.

This is how we leave.

"As I Stand on the Threshold"
is real,
is honest,
is every person's experience
before stepping free of scaffolds,
before learning to soar.

I can remember those same fears
on the marge of marriage,
on the receipt of my teaching license,
on the induction into leadership,
on the arrival of pregnancy,
on the realization that my parents were gone,
and that when voices asked for advice,
the eyes were looking to me....

All will be well.

When I am gone, oh, let me take my rest
On a plot of land where trees are blessed
To spread their branches, push out their leaves
Above the silent dead to comfort those who grieve

Beneath outstretching limbs let me lie in shade,
Perhaps along some hidden mountain glade
Where deer can browse on meadow grass
That shimmers or shivers as seasons pass.

Let old roots penetrate my loam and grow
Tall and straight as pines or crooked as old oaks,
Store house for squirrels, nest home for wrens,
Protection from the cold and owl along the glen.

Beneath a forest of varied green and steady brown
Let me lie in peace outside some town
Visited only by gentle rain and silent snow
At home with God, and unaware of winds that blow.

Ever the Optimists,
We Men.
Wee Men, we.
Wowed by
Simplicity.
Confused by
Complexity.
Slain by
Women's smiles.
Ever the Optimists,
We Men, we.

Wheeeeee!

Forgive me, sir, forgive me,
I think I'll just walk by;
I see unbridled anger;
I hear voices shouting high.

Cinders in your voices,
Fire in the skies,
I'm weary of your anger;
I think I'll just pass by.

Venom on the posters,
Riots in the air;
The innocent are losers
If anybody cares.

So, forgive me kindly, sister,
I think I'll pass you by;
I've lover, home, and children,
I must reach before the fight.

In a far off country have I roamed
Away from family, away from home.

Chaser of visions, Dreamer of dreams
Long have I been so far away.

What have I to speak?
To whom might I say,
"Forgive me, I have been away.
Remember me, I have been away."