Can I still be astonished
or have I become so inured to the darkness
and fallibility in others
that I expect nothing more?
It does not surprise me if
     the wealthy ignore the poor
     fundamentalists hate nonbelievers
     I eat too much
     men abuse women
     I forget to stroke my wife’s hair
     political fervor stifles compassion
     I reject needed correction.

But I am astonished by
     nurses and doctors who care for people who abuse them
     the tenderness of a mother who loves her malformed baby
     when I’m forgiven by someone I’ve hurt bad
     childbirth
     politicians who compromise for the greater good
     a firefighter who runs into a burning building
     when my apology is gracefully accepted by a victim of my folly.

Astonishment can
     give me hope
     lift me from depression
     bring a smile in the midst of my sadness
     prove my humanity.

It is hot
I am sweaty and already tired
a lone mason out here in the sun
my back bent over the edge of the foundation.
Behind me the stack of bricks
in my hand the trowel
snatched up from my weathered toolbox.

My forehead drips joining the goo of mortar
I lay the mortar bed row
and grab the first brick
to begin the southern wall,
the wall that will face the first squall
of this troubled season.

The thorns in my side
I try so hard to hide
with humor, cleverness, even kindness
but after so long they are well-planted
like seeds they’ve taken root.

I am a man full of grace and gratitude
even changes in attitude
I float on great waves
in my wooden dinghy
precarious atop mighty waters
and angels visit
take me into smooth azure lagoons
where I reside in peace
even serenity from time to time.

I weep in great sadness
occasional fits of despair
drowning there
I swim up to gulp for air
leap and glide into the light
breathe mercy in my flight
pray for courage and gumption
but discover
I cannot stay afloat alone
so with abandon I dive
into bright souls whose hands and hearts
reach down to rescue me.
Some of them are thorn people too
battered, broken, and rugged
who’ve found the courage to change
the things they could.

I guess these thorns are there
to ******* up for air
to give me the zephyr of humility
the certainty of a love
that save me.

When I spend time with you
the investment pays dividends
deposited in my soul
and like a big bowl of cereal in late morning
satisfies my hunger and thirst.

Your listening, whispers
sparkling eyes
arrest my heart
and take it prisoner.

I am yours.

Usually when I open my eyes,
creeping through the blinds a sun rise
brings a thimble of gratitude to my sleepy mind
for yet another day above ground.

But last night
news of flooded darkened homes
faces full of desperation and despair
haunted me
delayed sleep until another morning
was about to dawn.

I turned the lights on
just to make sure.

Now I am awake
and drink
a cup of gratitude.

I read poems, stories, see movies
where protagonists fall in love
give themselves to their lovers
only to later be betrayed or abandoned -
a story as old as humanity.

We two lovers
entwined for five decades
still must re-new our love over and over
each still a mystery,
in a fashion a foreigner, a traveler
on the road
a road strewn with rocks
tiny pebbles that get in our shoes
irritate the soles of our feet
unsettle our souls.

And on our better days
we can laugh at our folly and flubs
and end with a knowing smile and hugs.

But still there are molecules of our being
hidden from each other and ourselves
that will betray our trust.

I woke this morning from a dream
left in a brief fog of unease
just on the misty edge of anxiety

then I remembered
I am wrapped in a great mystery
in the heart
of the world and humanity
in a sacred space
and a promise of which I am heir

and now in the first light of dawn
I am caught in the spawn
of life
to be
transformed
into joy
and beauty