Life is not all sunshine and roses but also people in poses who act like they are fine but are really toeing the line of being fine and able to function to being a train wreck at the junction The outside looks happy and normal the inside is a mess and less formal But people see what they want to see and are as blind to pain as they want to be So, open your eyes and really look for places to help and let yourself be shook by someone else's pain instead of seeing the remain when through the cracks some slip and become a statistical blip
The unchanged river beckons
me with an evening greeting. My dearest
sits in his chair watching our river
welcome another sunset,
while distant buildings flash golden,
touched, as I am, by its glory.
Next to him, the still water
and the sun’s display,
I think I may never leave again.
When the day comes
That you have worked towards
When you go to heaven
And stand before God
When he judges you
I hope you’re able to justify
The way you treated me
Better than I can
I hope you can tease out the inconsistencies
Of your love for me
To your savior
I hope it is worth it
To look in the eyes of Christ
And repeat what you’ve told me for years
I hope it gives you pride
To rest on the knowledge
That all your hard work must be fruitful
And most of all, I hope that when he hears your story
He sneers
That he refuses you
And that you fall
Into darkness and despair
Lost and alone
Just like me
Here’s the truth of the “matter”:
When you gaze at a galaxy through
your telescope (or at Andromeda with
your naked eyes) what you see are
photons from the galaxy, which have traveled
a long way (in the case of Andromeda, which
is 2.5 million light years away, they have traveled–
you guessed it–2.5 million years) to
enter your eyes and be absorbed by your retinas,
becoming–in physical reality–part of your body
I have been an amateur astronomer since I was a child
and, therefore, I carry the light of hundreds of galaxies
within my body–the energy of ancient places
belongs now to me
the same thing happens when I gaze
at you
trucks full…baskets full…tables full
from orchards, from the corner market, dragons’
hoards of sweet golden
fruit ready to dribble down your chin your
hands and arms your bare summer legs
my mother on a ladder with a basket
plucking precious orbs of sunshine
kerchief on her head
dreaming of bright glass jars full of
summer…saved for winter treats
I would climb into the lower branches and
fall…plunk…on the red wood table below
“knocking
the wind out of me,” mother called it, my
abdomen hurt like a popped balloon but
next day I climbed and dropped
again on the old red table
obstinate, dyspraxic
child that I was…falling from the
legendary tree…the scent of peaches
I love you
and I miss you almost everyday
but I cannot turn back now
I see the path
paved in front of me
when I reach out my arms
you’re no longer within my grasp
I know that if I mustered
just a bit more strength
my fingertips
could just graze your surface
but I stay private
demure and aloof
and I cannot turn my neck
not even one degree
