Because we languish
  in time--we've hardly lived
bearing the weight of living
often in moaning and grief

for the right words we struggle
in vain our very angst to relieve
in vagueness we know other people
life is the perennial lacuna-- not a gift

Kindness
is enough religiousness
even unknown, on its own
it sparkles silently in devotion and faithfulness-

it's the generous giving
wherever it's present
the fountain over-flowing
the love that's unceasing -

kindness
is the alpha and omega
its helping hand
is always near, never far

An old friend said writing it down won't do
He was unclear that writing is my art and my lifelong friend
Every essence,nuance,color  travel is captured in my mind
Then it is crafted and when I feel it works then it becones a poem
So Dear Danny ,who left us long ago
I do write.it down because I am a writer

A slow transition, yet so quick,
from strangers to healers, we went.
You ripped your skin, I saw through,
and it felt a reflection of mine.

Found a soul pleading to feel loved,
searching to feel safe and adored.
Scars bleeding, pain un-ceasing,
you knew to give, not to take.

Saw a heart that deserves love,
so lost and tired to search or ask.
Didn't know just being there,
felt healing and freedom for you.

Kindness is all you asked of me,
love was everything I had in me.
You healed, only to bleed more,
when you had to make a choice.