New Year’s Eve

What happened in the old year?
Did the pieces fall apart?
Did we stretch until we lost control?
Did we crush our broken hearts?

Did we wrong a loved one? Break a vow?
Did we rage with all our might?

Did we miss our callings?
Did we watch them falling?
Excuse ourselves from the fight?

I wish for us this New Year
not happiness, not fun.
No prosperity, or success.
Just do what must be done.

My wish for us is mending,
I hope that we will toil.
Dig deep into our darkness,
pick rocks out from the soil.

Find seeds we thought were dying.
Our gifts still left to give.

I wish just this on New Year’s Eve:
the strength it takes to live.

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My Song

This is not  a song for you.

I sing for you all the time.

Praises. Silly phrases.

Anything in rhyme.

 

But this verse has no purpose,

no reason to be.

This is not a lullaby.

I just wrote it for me.

 

This is not a chant for justice.

This is not a call for peace.

No demands, or reprimands.

Tonight nothing has to cease.

 

Tonight I am the only one,

who needs to hear the song.

This is not a chant for justice.

You don’t have to sing a along.

 

This is not a love song.

You know I love you so.

Heart’s desire, lit my fire

so many years ago.

 

Maybe I’l let you hear the tune.

But the words belong to me.

This is not a love song.

And this is not a chant for justice.

Oh and this is not a lullaby.

I just wrote it for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Haiku on aging

Body sags to earth.

Mind reaches up to heaven.

Soul chooses them both.

 

 

Reunion Confusion

Why do I want to see them all

from twenty years ago?

Although we do not write or call,

why do I want to see them all?

To throw some kind of midlife Ball?

To re-live what? I just don’t know.

Why do I want to see them all

from twenty years ago?

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NaPoWriMo 2013:  Day 23

Soul’s lullabye

Close your eyes

gentle man.

Let the fire

grow dimmer.

Stars inside you

fall around you.

All the lights

begin to fade.

Close your eyes

gentle man.

night is calling to you.

Close your eyes

gentle man.

Let your spirit pass through.

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NaPoWriMo 2013:  Day 7

Who we will be

In this two months ours home

some how a sense of deja vu

but in lieu of “This has happened before.”

more, “This will happen and happen.”

wrapping me in familiar, warm,

storm-sheltering calm.

 

I will know this place.

Each space will tell a tale.

The veil of age will fall here.

Years and years of being,

Seeing the ups and downs,

the sounds of child growing

us slowing, me and you

who we will be.

Missing pieces

When I was young,

I wished to be old.

When I was there,

I wished to be here.

When I was single,

I wished for him.

Now he is here,

and sometimes,

I wish for just me.

Sometimes,

I wish the kids were grown.

Sometimes,

I wish I was just my own.

But then wouldn’t I just wish

for times gone by,

when I sang the children

lullabyes?

Or maybe the puzzle is always complete.

In each moment we live.

We are whole.

We are here.

We are with who we are with.

We are doing what we are doing.

Maybe there are no missing pieces.

Maybe.