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Roger Pierce Oct 2019
Beautiful Voice, sing to me once more
in this exquisite morning.
Slender leaves of the tall oleander rest
motionless, unable to follow the wind's demands
because of your song's enchantment.
Birds hang still in the air, wings extended
as if in flight, but halted in time by the
melody rising higher and higher into
the cloudless sky.
The echo of your song flows down from the
mountain, washing the valley in
joy and wonder.  Deer and bear pause their
foraging, stand motionless in awe while
forests of pine and clusters of aspen
bow to the grandeur of this magical moment.
O, Beautiful Voice, your song embraces the
depths of all being and we are breathless,
stunned into an astonishment of the sacred.
Sing!  Beautiful Voice
Roger Pierce Aug 2019
Late last night, just as I blew out the last candle
and pulled the cool sheet to my chest,
I caught a whiff of your gentle fragrance
floating just above the empty pillow beside me,
and I heard you call my name in the sounds of
the stream that curls its way through the tall pines.
Sleep never had a chance.  Memories burst into the room
from all the familiar places and moments we used to share.
I heard you hum that sill song about little gray clouds.
I'm sure I saw your reflection in the starlight on the window pane.
An owl called in the distance and I thought of your
beautiful, astonished face when you first caught a glimpse
of the elegant night visitor.
As the memories floated by, gifts of grace,
I felt a tear slide down my cheek and fall to my lip.
It tasted just like the ones I used to kiss from your face
when you wept in deep sorrow or delicious joy.
O memories, have mercy.
I am not able to bear your full weight.
The wound is yet too raw.
The hour too soon.
Pass me by for now.
At least for
now.
Roger Pierce Aug 2019
There is a meadow in my mind,
a place of sacred mystery
where an endless sea of bluebonnets
wave when they see me on the
far side of the barbed wire strands.
I am no stranger, it seems.  A
weathered oak, scarred by lightening
and the anguishes of time, knows my name,
and the cluster of muted green
cedar bushes swing their arms
like children begging for an embrace.

Shoes in hand, I wiggle my toes into
the warm, fertile earth and I am captured
by a current of life, electrified by
a surging stream of energy.  Oneness, often
imagined, overwhelms.  Here
everything connects.  All things matter.
One heart beats for all and I gasp at my
deep belonging.  It is as if I am
birthed again as creation's
beloved child.

There is a meadow in my mind
and I am sure I have sat among
these fragrant flowers before.
Roger Pierce Jul 2019
My ears woke me this morning.
They whispered to my brain:
"Listen to this!"  And my brain
was so excited that it woke all
the other parts of me and we
listened to Fred and Ginger
dancing on the skylight.

They were in good form.
No, not good. Spectacular!
The tap routine started slowly,
then built, then exploded.
Fred did his solo piece,
leaping and sliding across
the skylight, then Ginger tapped
into a rhythm that, at first, was
swing but quickly changed to
a graceful, flowing waltz.

On and on they danced,
effortless, mesmerizing, truly
timeless.  I don't remember
going to sleep, but when a
slender stream of morning
sun slipped past the curtains
and tickled my nose, I woke to
the distant sound of a graceful
duet.  They faded into the
blur of memory, still dancing
cheek to cheek.
Roger Pierce Jul 2019
Sing with me today.
The world needs a song
to penetrate the cold silence, a
melody that fills the memory
and insists on being sung at the
least expected times, in the moment
of necessity.

Hold my hand as a sign
of our unity.  Let us show
the world that voices can blend
and produce something beautiful,
a harmony of the heart and mind
that softens the sharp edges of rude
and hurtful words.

Take the hand of anyone
who wants to join our song.
All are welcome.  All are wanted.
There is a place for everyone as the
song rises above the clamor and confusion,
touches the heart of the universe
and then falls like a cleansing shower
on this thirsty world.

Sing with me today.
The world needs a song.
Roger Pierce Jul 2019
Sit with me awhile
Speak of happy things
Smile away the darkness
Soften my sadness with the
Sheer delight of your presence.

Let us dine on the sweet bread of life
I will toast the days gone by, moments of
mystery and majesty.  You, the hope that
tomorrow will be gentle, each day the revealing
of a new dimension of the pilgrim self.

Tell me stories of your journeys,
the streets you walked, mountains
conquered, tell me of love that filled
your world with lilac and rose, of dreams
that never came true.  I will listen with my
heart and find blessing in the feast of conversation.

Then, when the candle burns low,
I will close my eyes in the final sleep
and set my course for a distant star.

Sit with me awhile
Speak of happy things
Smile away my darkness
Send me on my way with a
quiet gesture of peace.
Roger Pierce Jul 2019
I am the Invisible Other.
I live unnoticed, unheard,
marginally on peripheries.
I am different by color
or language or belief.
Regarded with condescending
contempt, or stinging
indifference, I am a transparent
person, a bad dream that fades in
the light of artificial reality.

Do you wonder at my anger?
Look!  See my face!
If I call your name, will you answer?
No.  I don't think so.
I know my place.
I've learned my role, and
I play it well.
I am the Insignificant Other.

I live in the patronizing shadow
of your self-interested arrogance.
It is a cold place, abandoned even
by inherent instincts to love or to care.
Deserted by decency, it is a place
where tears turn to dust and hope
dies young on the vine.
I am the Other.
I am here.

— The End —