Distance

A light in the dark in the distance

Brings an urge to search deep past today.

Beyond that light in the distance

Are places and times far away.

Times that should have stretched longer,

Places I should never have left,

Nothing there now remains untaken,

Either by purchase, by borrowing, or theft.

A girl’s there whose attentions I treasured,

Carving our names over and over on trees.

Whoever she chose was far better,

Yet she’s one of my prized memories.

On its own, looking back’s hardly harmful;

The way it was maybe’s the way it still is.

He remains maybe sheltered with her in her hometown,

Or she maybe’s still with him in his...

...Waking and sleeping underneath their own skies,

Interlocked against all outdoors,

In a world of uncomplicated nights,

Simple days, green hills, sunny shores.

Over-fed sheep, sleeping cats, whited angels,

Overhead clouds form these shapes of calm.

Worlds far away remain too far to unfold

Their embraces against hurt and harm.

I’m so distanced now from that grounding,

Pulled by a gravity unseen and strong,

Nursing memories of love and of homeland,

Growing set in this way all too long.

Too many hilltops have since been leveled,

Leaving no heights for high waters to fall,

And the weather turns stormy and violent

Where there were never such turns at all.

Swing low, steal away; I seek to be found;

I hunger to locate a lost claim,

To step sure-footed again on old soil,

Where trees are still carved with my name.

But the bridges and paths have all washed away.

Chances to rebuild are far gone.

That light in the distance slowly turns off

Against hopes that it would remain on.

 

The Reckoning

Again, a strange lone finger
Is pointing at the moon.
A lone dark finger

That I first saw back in June.

I remember how I noticed it,

I remember where and when.

This lone dark finger

Has been back and forth since then.

Once again it’s here tonight,

And beckoning at me

To look at or follow something

That I perhaps don’t care to see.

The lone dark finger points and waits,

I make neither breath nor sound.

I do no more than stand and stare,

Feet frozen to the ground.

Another year’s now ending,

A time far away from June.

And the finger keeps on waiting.

For my response - and soon.

I think I should have stayed indoors

So I wouldn’t have to see

That lone strange finger

Still beckoning at me.

But I cheat myself if I believe

I could remain un-found,

The finger knows all hiding places.

It’s best I stand my ground

And wait to see how close it gets

This reckoning, beckoning sight.

Wait to see if it moves on,

To return some other night.

Home Tonight

The night swells to a melting point
That’s been simmering since noon.
Chills and moisture ache each joint;
Relief won’t be coming soon.
Earthly souls retract all boasts,
Calmness leaves all faces.
Coyotes, pumas, hounds and ghosts
Seek out their peaceful places.


The storm rumbles in, lights blow out.
Breaths heave fast and shorter.
Squalls rage from west, north, east and south.
The roads sink under water.
Clouds dark and low blanket the hills
Nearby and in the distance.
Lightning licks wet window sills;
As thunders crack the silence.


Parched yesterdays haven’t left in vain,
To them this storm’s indebted.
On such a night all prayers for rain
Are canceled and regretted.
Lake and river, levee and lea
Are brimmed with snarling foam.
Nowhere outside is safe to be;
There’s now no place like home.

endings

To be is to 
Eventually no longer

Be.

No beginning

Offers travel forever forward.

To never end

Is to have never begun.

These thoughts and words and lines

As well

Build only to a time

Of turning silent

And continuing no more.

To come in

Is to have once gone out.

To leave

Is to have once arrived.

To go down

Reminds of having gone up.

To wake

Is to have been asleep.

A sunrise

Foretells a sunset.

And a dried flower -

Once a gift in bloom -

Tells

That there's no living

Without having to,

At some time,

Accept giving it all up
...And leave.