I strive for each parting to be well made.
Not in silence, nor in haste,
but in honesty and good humour.
For each parting may well be a conclusion
or perhaps a foundation
if only we knew the truth of it.

So let us not step away without observing
and, be it only briefly, examining
what we have had in this, our good company.

Let us not turn our eyes without first
seeking the light of this truth
- that we have sown to good effect,
that our God has purposed
something of Heaven here.  
And it will only be in the reaping erelong
that Heaven's Kingdom will be established
It is only then her King is enthroned
in the hearts of his creation in concert.

My brother, my sister,
- let us see this end, this parting,
as one well made in the sight of our Maker,
the good Maker of each joining
of every parting.
Indeed let us know this
as a parting that our Maker
has truly well made
and in His careful making has blessed it
with his countenance.

And so, let us part in his rejoicing.

The urge came.
Desire filled my breast
and before I knew it
I was flung from one corner to the next,
a branch iced over and shivering
as the tempest of want threatened
to shear me from my past,
to break me.

The urge left me
yearning to be carried away
to a place far removed
from these safe harbors;
over lands where I knew no names
and had no kin,
To a place unfamiliar,
but where the breath of God filled the air
and made sweet the prospect of new beginnings.

Crazy to think we are here now,
Rarely acknowledging each other.
After the way we connected,
I should have known better.
Giving you my body,
Didn't make you value me.
Who would have thought
Healing from you, would make me love me.
I still don't regret you,
The time we spent was everything.
Evenings spent texting, days on the phone,
Have my thoughts running rampant.
Ever since you ended us,
All my feelings are crushed. But I'll always want to know,
Did you want to end us? Or did history make you do so?

Some things get past death,
But not what's right
And yet neither what's left.

It's like a portal as obelisk,
It's like an orb of light that's electric.

No matter how you view it-
It's all lookings, each perspective.

It's a thin bridge,
A causeway that's been setup for you
If you just find your way
And choose to walk it.

If you're not careful,
And you're not a wanderer nor sailor,
You'll slip and fall into the marsh.
And that's like a nefarious ocean.

If next time around
You want to remember;
Walk the steep mountain passes,
Down through the valleys,
Past the swamps & wetlands,
Through the deserts & oasis,
In the towering forests & clearings,
The fields of caverns & caves.

You just have to figure it out
Before you die.

Have you been learning?

The last time you said that you screamed it, "******* parasites, always looking over my fence." although there was no one there. It stayed like that for a few weeks. It was obvious the wobblies had turned on you, no more safe place for a union supporter.
             The tracks that lead to out of town kept rearing through your skull as if an invite had been sent through some unknown path of communication. The maddness lasted, sometimes it was worse. One day in particular you pinned your curtains closed until there wasn't one speck of light to be seen inside. "They're coming, you wait, they are timing everything". On that night you ran the shower and shut the door. As steam arose into the room you swallowed twenty sleeping pills and placed a plastic bag over your head. Radio blearing in the backround either for comfort or to drown out any sounds of gasping or both! When they wheeled you out of the house your arm fell off the side of the stretcher as if you were saying goodbye. You would have been embarrassed at the thought of your cold white hand waving. You were angry and scared and had said goodbye years before. There was no need of one last. You left like you came, sadly and yet somehow smiling as if you might have known something no one else did. Maybe you did sweetheart, maybe you did.

on the edge
of this ravine, I’ve stood
so long that the grass has grown
between my toes, moss hanging off
my fingers in tendrils,
wildflowers in my hair,
but today it is time to move.

the darkness yawns wide, though
it wasn’t always this way.
once, it was a child—
like all grown-ups once were.
once, it was just a crack in the dirt,
the product of a thousand tiny
earthquakes.

when i was a child, running
free as the wind,
i stumbled to a stop at its cusp.

i became afraid like a
fawn turns to a deer with
wide, wide, wide eyes
darting around as the fish
in a crystal sea.
i spent all my years, frozen
there until the chasm grew and so
did i.

but today, i take the leap.

i shake off the dust and replace
it with steel, steel drum for a heart with
a beat for every step,
one foot in front of the other picking
up speed, until suddenly i am
f l y i n g.

fear?
in another life, perhaps.

moving out
from the noise
and the drama
and the control
and the good and the bad
loneliness is freedom
but how far is so far away?
is a blank page empty
or just white?
time in the form of a pen will tell