Too Long Away

I have been too long away
            from writing my poetry
            from a visit with my family
            from the joy of my music
            from quiet walks in the woods.

I have been too long away
            with no one to blame but myself
            distracted by too many pointless things
            worrying too much about things I can’t change
            forgetting to just be here

I have been too long away
            and it’s time to decide
            what I really want
            before I find myself
            too long away from life itself.

In Pain

Sometimes I literally want to die
die to my pain
die to my frustrations
die to my self pity

There must be more than just this.
I must be more than just this.
So, I cry and let the tears
show me how to live again.

Autumn Musings

As autumn arrives
and the leaves begin to fall
I think of all my leaves
that need to be shed.

Some easily flit away.
Some are stuck fast.

And I wonder why,
why does so much change,
why is this time of life so hard,
why am I here at all?

Spring is the time for hope.
Summer is the time for growth.
Winter is the time for rest.
But, Autumn is the time for musings.

Fog

There is something about fog,
mysterious and intriguing,
the way it covers up
all manner of things
and then reveals them slowly
as if to give us time to make sense of it all.

There is something about fog,
quiet and peaceful,
the way it muffles sounds
in blankets of stillness
and then strangely distorts them
as if to make us listen more closely.

There is something about fog,
thick and moist,
the way it leaves its mark
in dew and dampness
and then disappears completely
as if to remind us to dry our own tears.

In the Silence

In the silence
            there is nothing
            and everything.
In the silence
            Divine Breath speaks
            by saying nothing at all.
In the silence
            all things drift away
            and yet the emptiness is full.
In the silence
            I find myself
            by losing myself.
All there is,
            all there will ever be, already exists
            in the silence.

Modern Living

Life is a circle.
Spinning round and round we go,
getting nowhere, fast.

Spring Rain

See the saturated clouds
flinging off their excess
so they can float
freely in the heavy air.

See the mighty maple
casting off its seedling bundles,
weak and hearty alike
given to their fate and the will of God.

See the timid chipmunk
scurrying out of the downspout
finally realizing
that its safe, warm nest is not the shelter it sought.

See me, discovering some hidden bravery,
throwing off my winter of angst
and allowing myself to bask in the joy
of the spring rain.