Monday, July 21, 2008


His thoughts run rapid
Whirl wind leaves on a sweet October night.

Search for meaning in an uncertain world
Direction sought on uncharted maps.

A song bird sings, orchestrating a cry
Beseeching direction from his promising mother.

Leaves, heavy with penitence, hang
Overhead protection for my brittle skin.

He forges ahead--the future,
Against thorn bush branches.

Frolics in his blood shed, someone somewhere
Holds me back.  Up.  Down. Down.

The reflecting pond marvels the scares
Reminders of survival, not of pain.

He throws stones to break truth
And I bask at veneers of imperfection, not of pain.

A butterfly's wings brush against the breath
An air that warms us both.

The lonely blue jay replaced
The harmony of mother and son.

Cold, ruthless pain, will if fade
With infant eyes closed.

Mother’s arms wrapped around her child
Familiarity pries the son from the womb.

Eyes wider, and I shutter
lies lead to the long and winding path.

A deep breath and a whistle
I take the blue jay’s simple song.

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