Pencil Portrait

self portrait.JPG




Stomach an infinite emptiness.
Can’t control my hands,
Can’t keep them still.

Have to remember how to breathe,
And how to sing,
How to hold my head up high.

Minutes, like memories, disappear in an instant,
I dread the call.
The time comes, and I am ready.


I am caught in mid-sentence,
the phrase of my life seemingly incomplete.

Eyes open.
Had I closed them?
Confusion lasts for a heartbeat.

Taking a breath.
I feel as if I’ve never breathed before,
Fragrance pervades, and I understand.

Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord Almighty


My legs are clouds,
My head is starlight.

My arms are wings,
the fingertips reaching to infinity.

I am small.

My eyes, two stars,
focus on one Being.

My knees bend,
in awe I bow.

My form exists for eternal worship.


First a hum, like a half woken memory,
to listen, to grasp at it,

Makes it louder, louder,
Is it one voice or many, male or female?

I can’t tell, my ears strain,
Louder, and louder still.

One voice changes the note,
Another follows suit.

I begin to be aware of my throat,
I sing as well, with many, alone.


Dazzling, a flash,
dimming to a twinkle, a sparkle.

Are my eyes open or closed?
I move my lids, the weight of them tires me.

White brightness is revealed,
A blink, two, a third blink, four.

Then open.
Never closed again.

Another Rain Poem

Some view rain as dismal, depressing.
But I have different eyes:
Rain is hopeful, proof of survival,
A blessing in disguise.

The sound of one raindrop,
though silent when alone,
pairs itself with its brothers,
and gains a violent tone.

And I when speaking,
Cannot be heard.
Without my Brothers,
I don’t say a word.

I’m reminded in rain,
of the strength to look farther,
of the wisdom it takes,
to sow and to wait,
with the patience of the farmer.

Rain soothes the earth,
And prepares it for more.
So that good things can come,
even through war.

How many times have I asked,
For this pain to be taken away?
Can I trust that the One who made rain,
Knows what to do when skies are gray?

Fall Break

Fall break,

Fall break,

Fall break,

Fall break.

Huh, sounds more like a sequence of events,
than a time for relaxation.

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