half way to paradise
half way to hell

a right turn here
a left turn there

love is radical
a choice made.

Not all rivers
end up in the ocean–
doesn't make their journey
less worthy.

Not all love
ends up in a lover's arms–
doesn't make it any less
worthy.

I am sitting here:
On a bright Winter’s day,
Squinting into the sunshine,
Seeing the sparrows climb
The fences, trees, rooftops and leaves,
And I ponder --
Have I lost my “mojo”?!
I am feeling flat; my ego’s splat
Against the wall of hope;
Have I run out of things to say?
Have I no whim enough to dance and play
With letters and words, sentences and phrases?
Is this it?!
Have I lost my “Po-Jo”?
Do I need to get up and shake my "J-Lo?"
Or "Bon-Bon" if you're more a Ricky Martin fan!

In You, I am alive —
In You, I can try; thrive —
In You, I can create,
In You, I know my fate —
In You, I can fail.
In You, I can see all,
Now, truly.

I owned the streets this morn,
like darkness owned the night.
And with each step, I owned the street
like winter owned the grass;
tight and stealth,
sleek, powerful and full of wealth,
as I walked those streets,
I reclaimed my health,
as I walked those streets,
I reclaimed my  voice,
as I walked those streets
I told MN who was in charge --
not her or any other man or woman!

Sparse cars slipped past like whispers of the fog,
their gas fumes slid into the clouds: no beginning and no end.

And Blackbirds, oh Blackbirds,
You were my lagging escort this morn,
You sat still, like frozen shadows
too cold to move and too scared to be seen.

What has come of those days,
That I longed to pass?
What have come of those days,
Now that I long wish they last’d?

A lonely Wren
Called for me --
Inviting me out to play,
But I was greeted
With bone-shattering coldness
And not the joy-filled soiree.