If it takes what time I have
Left, to kiss every scar, hop-
ing only, to make them bet-
ter, let me do that in a
sunny place where rays
of heat that wash over
you, fall

From the heaven's
that, you too, fell from.

His heavy soiled worn
work boots, are set aside on
the woven mat in the corner of the room,
behind him.

Picking up the violin and bow,  with rosin
sticking, tuning as he moves across the open, lofted
space
in preparation of play.  And by playing,
the chatter and noise of his work day far and away,
from this private space were no longer a distraction.  They were behind him,
now he had completed a new song, knew it by heart,
as it was from his…
with the sounds and notes soaring above the vaulted
ceiling rafters, he was getting that feeling that comes
with his play.

He began to dance for his audience of One.
the music was his, but with it he asked for forgiveness,
for his thoughtless ways on those days when he cared not for,
any other living soul than his own. Then a heaviness in
the flow, the rhythm, lead him to a place where he knew he
was forgiven now and forever from before he or this song,
were ever birthed.

He dreams Celtic.

Arms moving as he played, feet lifting and placed,
jumping from note to note, to land and lift again. And again.

Lightly.

He dreams Celtic.

He paused, so did his music as did his play
and he stared his work boots down.
Then he quickly he began again fingers dancing over
the strings,
as feet danced across the floor, he knew
that in playing his music there was joy,
in his past there was a history,
that told a story every-time
he played
because he dreams Celtic.

Though the day may tax him,
it was able to be tamed, for
his dreams of music are reality
and he dreams Celtic.


DWE 2013-04-21

you stuffed the sharpest fragments of your past
deep into the pockets of that green coat
so that they couldn’t pierce you anymore

sometimes in conversation, your hand shifts towards a pocket
I give the gesture attention, so you go ahead and reach in

the memory you pull out, you hold before you like a line-up
I tell you I’m not taking mental-picture mugshots

all I want is to hold the parts of your past that hurt the most
and grace them with my tears

for when I look at you, I see a girl with the courage
to pick the broken fragments of her shattered self off the floor
and piece them back together

I see a girl who dares to ask the deepest questions of life
because she has already been broken
and is not afraid of the answer

Writing for social change
                             is strange,
as it seems words can do so little,
write the right message of peace, or accountability
                                                 from a place of humility.

You have to actively see and believe,
              educate yourself and receive,
knowledge like a digested victual,
you have so much freedom, a gift and not a wish,
                                    share yours on an others' dish!

Find a topic near your heart and soul,
                        staying silent takes a toll,
the masses can read and won't stay noncommittal,
write an editor or an  MLA, MP, the UN and wait and see,
                                                              or put it on Hello Poetry.

We may read, we may like, we may make a note,
you may not know the fruit of your planted seed,
                        until someone, somewhere succeeds
                                                                           or is freed.

The best advice I've ever gotten
Is to view yourself as an equal.
Everyone
Even the ones who seem perfect.
They've got the same
Everything.
They share your problems.
Your heartaches, your pains
Are theirs.
We are too wrapped up in ourselves
To notice everyone else
Bleeding.
The same way we are.
But if you take a second,
And step out of your own pain and misery,
You will realize.
We're all the same
at heart.

As we gather around the table,

Give the Blessing as we are able,

And Thanks for what we have received.

Wait.

Wait a little longer.

This cannot be taken so lightly,

the sunrise Sunday morning brightly

shone more than any day before.

Waiting.

Have I waited long enough?

A round stone was rolled, away.

What they found missing,

Changed,

everything that day and everyday

After,

Waiting.

Around the time that He returns

all of us will wait no more,

He will show us what creation

was really for.

*It will be worth the wait.