I imagine, quietly,
if this were it.
If, while I waited on this train platform,
someone pushed me into the tracks.
It would be an accident, of course.
What was I waiting for, anyway?
The news would hear it first,
and they'd be the first to forget me.
Clamboring over my unremarkable story
to the next and the next and the next.
I hope I'd make a favourable statistic.
Then what family I have would hear,
once they determined who I was,
and they'd worry I wasn't pushed.
They'd have so many questions
I'd be unable to answer,
much like when I visit.
Then would come a lover,
as sad as those who loved me,
and they would keep my photo
until they grew tired of looking.
For their own sake,
I'd hope they got tired quickly.
Friends would remember me
and tell me kind words I wouldn't hear,
and I'd be of no help to them anymore.
Every once in a while,
I'd come up in a conversation,
and I'd hope they'd grin at a memory,
but it would be more likely they'd frown.
There it'd be,
my young life detailed
in saddened conversation and tears,
until I'd be left another piece of the past.
The statistic of an unremarkable life.
I wait aimlessly for your arrival
Just to see your smile
To hold you in my arms
To keep you from the world's harm
As I sit waiting
That moment I am creating
When I can finally see you standing before me
How lovely would that be
I hear your car outside
Last time I saw you I cried
As I run to meet you
I realize our love is true
Our bodies meet with an embrace
And all I can feel is my heart race
We spend hours together
We're two birds of a feather
I enjoy every second I have sitting beside you
Butterflies I get from you, as if our love is still new
The way you say goodbye
And the way you cry
And hug me so tight
In your arms it feels so right
Kissing you for what I know is the last time for awhile
Oh, how I'll miss that smile
As I walk away from the only thing I've ever really known
Home doesn't even feel like home
All I can say is that I miss you, Bay
Knowing you're about 130 miles
Thank you Lord for the gift of your love, and beauty, your power and your humility especially in the blessed sacrament of the most Holy Eucharist. It is here that you hide both in plain sight and reveal your divinity and humanity in a most profound and personal way. It is here that you meet us and here that you greet us as we fall on our knees to pray. You give us the sun to welcome us at dawn and send angels to guard at the end of the day. There is always something new and timely every time I am before you in this place. And every time I come away with a brand new look at your face. I look forward to the times we have together with such anticipation and afterwards am filled with jubilation! Help me cling to you, help me sing to you. In troubled seasons help me hold fast, and in stressful moments help me to relax. In sadness I ask for peace and the strength to rejoice, when I have a difficult decision help me to discern and make a good choice. We pray to you, we bring all we are to you. Our joys, sorrows, longings, praises and petitions. Give us eyes to see you, ears to hear you, a mind to seek you and a heart to love you. Help us also to see, hear, seek, and love others as you do for all of them and for each of us.
We ask this and all things in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
come a little closer baby
i feel like letting you in.
and i feel like telling you everything,
that i held so deep within.
all those little secrets.
all the those times i was shy
and here i am open arms,
and i'm ready to explain the fright.
and i'm ready to tell you the dirty.
the clean, the boring, the new.
i'll tell you what you want to hear,
i just feel like talking to you.
come a little closer baby.
i feel like letting you learn.
the ropes and maze to my heart,
but i won't lie i'm still concerned.
i don't know how much it'll last,
so lean in while you can.
i've got things to whisper baby,
so lean in, just take my hand.
cradle me away
this love won't go astray
but this feeling is precious
precocious and nimble
One soothing gaze that took it all
Shot right through from your piercing soul
We are hot white marble and ashes,
let us be until,
we're cold white marbles and ashes
I like you and I'd like to stay
When I introduce the suggestion of answering my question,
it seems to puzzle your mind-
my eagerness for an answer is constantly declined.
Do you listen to me when I reply? Or do you just listen to yourself speak?
You continue to talk and don't hear me shriek because you know that I'm weak.
Why don't you listen?
when you feel the watermelon juice
skiing down your chin
when you hear the hum of the lawnmower
singing its backyard ballad
when you smell the smoke of the bonfire
seeping slowly into your skin
you will know
you will sense
- p. winter