Trajectories arc, the shooting star,
From where and to whom, who knows.
Imagination burst; a reality check,
And from there our story grows.
We walk the line; we strive our share,
We tend well to seeds we’ve sown.
And while sometimes our need – we just want to be held,
More often, we walk alone…

As the war ended, the world charter ratified,
Mass confusion abound, those who lived, those who died.
The Trümmerfrau organize, tons of rubble in their way;
Captors held by captives receive penance, war time ballet;
The fourth *****,  just an embryo, now in barren lands,
Regurgitated lost ideals, lost ways, their lost plans;
And while Nuremburg defined the reality of genocide,
The atomic age was born and we continued to divide.

We’ve nowhere to hide.

“You cannot fight evil with evil”
With grace and serenity, she softly spoke,
“Our past was not well thought-out –
We allowed crude hate to convoke
And seep on through, an attempt to replicate
All that’s wrong in our lives, all the damage and hate
That tries to consume love’s yearning for light –
Instead of an out-held hand and a pathway from the plight.”

And as freethinkers disappear, David Kelly for one,
We look back and see all we’ve done is still undone.

Sometimes at night I like to think
Ideas flow like a rippled stream;
Some thoughts arise while others sink,
Memories flood back in to the dream
Of other times, of another world;
Different actors within the same play;
Other countries, my loyalties unfurled,
Another story, take me back to the day…
Ahhh, I remember it all so well,
Tide gone, we ran on the sand,
It was in France, it was Mont St. Michel,
We had so much fun, nothing was planned.
So where are you now, my blond haired friend;
Do you see me and where I have been;
Are we connected, do our thoughts still transcend;
In my life do you now supervene?
I can be your vicarious choice -
Please play me like never before;
I hear you, I remember the sound of your voice;
You are back and we are ready for more.
But old memories fade and the moment is gone,
What we held we must now give away.
An attention jolt, it’s my life’s edge song
And that is why I write poetry…

Her name was Maddy, a young logger by trade;
Her face still on old plasticized signs;
Please step forward. Welcome to the Highway of Tears,
B.C.’s picking ground of violent crimes.
Girls come, women go, never to be seen;
People fear what they don’t understand.
Isolation lingers near the edge of the road
While moments pause, the unanswered demand:
“We need to know where you went in the woods,
We know you set up camp by the lakeside;
Others arrived and soon a large party began,
Then you disappeared, now others hide”.
Fifty years of spirits watch from high above
The vast expanse of the wilderness highway.
Unanswered questions still linger and remain
With only hints at answers to this day.
“Please talk to us Maddy, are you now safe”?
As our minds wander this miasmal mist;
You will always be loved, our search will never end
Until you come home, are tightly held and kissed.
But her eyes look on from the old plasticized sign,
No hidden hiding place has been found so far.
The mystery continues, our thoughts still focused
On finding you, wherever you are.


http://madisonscott.ca/

Distant echoes come cross the valley floor;
Remind me of when I was young.
Puddles splash, rain chills, right to the core
But no matter, we were just having fun.
As we grew life’s path took a serious edge,
We schooled, we learned a new way;
Armed now with a plethora of life’s knowledge
We became adults, more work and less play.
As life and time meters on as we cope,
We take stock, we treasure our good friends,
And then there is you, the knot at the end of my rope,
You tie all my beginnings to their ends.