An Alternate Reality

Archive for November, 2014


I seek a safe haven
free from worry
free from hurt
but I can’t find it.

Everywhere is
the threat of disappointment
the fear of rejection.

I seek a calm harbor
where I can rest
where I can breathe
but I can’t get there.

Everywhere is turmoil
roiling seas
stormy clouds.

I seek a quiet garden
full of life
full of gladness
but it eludes me.

Even here
the bench is hard and cold
the weeds mock me.

Still, I trudge on
through the disappointment
through the chaos
through the chill

seeking…ever seeking…

To Live Again

I laugh
I cry
I grieve
I hurt
Someday, perhaps, I’ll live again.

I mourn
I remember
I miss
I smile
Someday, perhaps, I’ll live again.

This hole will fill
This heart will heal
This pain will end
New joy will come
And then, perhaps, she’ll live again.

Hail Mary, full of grace

Hail Mary, full of grace
Sitting vigil
watching my mother die
saying the rosary
hoping God will take her soon.

Carry her away
on a gentle breath.
Let her live on
only in our memories and our dreams.

This feels like a dream,
like I will wake
to childhood again.
How can it be that my mother will be gone?

Sitting vigil
watching my mother die
remembering her life
hoping God will keep her safe.

Now, and at the hour of our death…
4 generations in the room-
one, only a shell.
Talking, laughing, telling stories
ushering one onward
remembering and weeping
reminiscing and laughing
little ones scurrying around
the rest in chairs, on the floor,
next to the body on the bed.
Child, mom, grandma, great grandma
Three generations in one room-
one now gone on.

Oh, my terrible sad heart.
Surreal and sad.
My mother is gone
and I can’t get my thoughts
around that fact.

In the whirlwind of calls and plans,
forgetting what it’s all for.
My life will never be the same
but it never really would have been anyway.

The Myth of Fingerprints

Paul Simon wrote a song about the myth of fingerprints,
how, although we all claim to be unique,
ultimately, we are all the same.

And so we are–in our conflicts and our arguments,
in our fears and our desires,
in our hopes and in our aspirations.

The myth of fingerprints–
that in the important ways we are the same,
we are born, we live, we die.

There is some comfort
in not being alone
on this journey,

knowing that others have traveled this path before us.
So, there is something to be said
for the myth of fingerprints.

The Felling of the Trees

What happened to them?
Overnight they were gone.
That healthy copse of trees
hiding the highway from view.

What happened to its creatures?
Their nests and homes gone
without a trace. The mainstay
of their lives suddenly displaced.

What happened to us?
That we strip the land bare
to build a “nature” of our own
in concrete and steel.

It should make us sad
and a little angry.
We’ve all lost a little of ourselves
in the felling of the trees.