A NEW HOPE

It could be good
for us to be close, friend.
It could. It can’t be bad, anyway.
But how long can it last?
The memories of a time
that will never return
will only sustain us for so long.
It could be good—
yes, it could. But, is it for the best?

(26 June 2006)

ASK ME

Ask me sometime what truth means,
what I think my lonesome task is.
Ask me sometime
if what I’m doing right now
makes any sense.

Under the bridge, the dried leaves on the pavement
lie silent and still before the golden dawn.

Ask me sometime if my life
is like a painting that I’m walking into,
where I know everything that is to come.
Then ask me if a coldness is
around me, if now we are free.

A flock of birds flies past the window,
changes course and heads into the morning sun.

Ask me who it is I want to please,
and who I want to be happy.
Ask me whether we should bury our toys
in the sand, if we should honor our fathers.
Ask me sometime if you’re the one I love.

(19 June 2006)

THERE IS A COUNTRY SOMEWHERE…

There is a country somewhere,
where the clouds roll by,
with clear blue skies.

With eucalyptus trees,
where every hour
is an early hour.

Where family and friends
that are thousands of miles away
are right next to you.

Where education
is something that is going
on all the time.

Where we wait
until there’s a brighter day.

Where your happiness
is others’ happiness,
and where others’
is yours.

Where the sun shines brightly
into the bedroom window.

A voice inside me says: And now, go.
And don’t look back, don’t look back.

(15 June 2006)

THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE

This is where I once had races.
Who won and who didn’t?
I can’t remember.

And this is where I once had English class.
What did we read? Was I a good student
or a bad student? What kind of teacher
did I have? I can’t really remember that
either. Maybe if I tried.

There are always big days to have,
always new chapters to start.
Eventually, though, things
don’t matter very much.

Let’s go for a long walk tonight.

(14 June 2006)

A HISTORY LESSON

People forget. People forget that trees
for a long time never grew. People forget
that some things are sacred. People forget promises.
People forget that glory is taken away
and later given back. People forget that
there is a destiny. People forget that wars are fought
and some have no support. People forget that some
take and are willing to give back,
but for others, there is no compromise.
People forget that there is a dirty job
that has to be done.

Sometimes, people are never told.

(10 June 2006)

EVENING WALK

I remember once when we were young
we went up to the lake. We rode the waves.
At first we held on tight to the handles,
later we loosened our grip
because it was fun to splash
across the surface of the water.
It was nearly sunset when
we finished, nearly eight o’clock.

It was the height of summer.

As we made our way
back to the house, there was only
the sound of dusk, the earth listening in closely,
and the hum of the car on the road.

Remnants of the sunset were on the horizon.

That night the heat
didn’t subside much, and the
next morning was peacefully silent.

It was an invincible time.

I stand in the shadow of a large truck,
the streetlight doesn’t reach here.
We still had responsibilities and obligations
then, but we didn’t know what they were.
The miles between us were from
one end of town to the next.

Those days are gone forever, I should just let them go.

We were reaching for something then,
jewels at the bottom of a soft-flowing
river, things that were mysterious.
And today we are reaching
for something, and don’t know what it is.

(10 June 2006)

WHY I GET UP EARLY

Sometime before dawn,
ask me where we are. It’s dark out
and there is nothing to see
out the windows, but we still
pull the white curtain open.

We could be in a cabin
up in the mountains or out in the meadows
if all we hear, in between our prayers, is the
waiting quietude, and the birds—
some flapping their wings
as they fly overhead, some chirping while they sit
on tree branches.

Soon, though, there will be more
cars and trucks going down
the old narrow road, more toilets flushing and
phones ringing in neighboring buildings,
and more dogs barking in the distance.
The birds will continue chirping and flying.

And when we’re done
with our prayers and the sun
rises, we ready ourselves
for the next encounter.

(8 June 2006)

MEDITATION IN THE GARDEN

It’s out of my hands
for now. I’ve walked to
the tree and stood beneath it.
I’ve threaded any hope
there is, followed the fire.
This could be what
I came here for…

(7 June 2006)

SCREEN

Looking at pictures of one friend
in a crowd of strangers, they are
scheduled to become
my friends. I don’t see that
happening. Birthday gatherings
in crowded restaurants,
welcoming new friends to the area,
games in the living room, rainy days
on the pier, each water glass
on the coffee table with a coaster underneath it.
There is something I should
be missing.
Some think I’m all right, some think
I’ll never learn.

(5 June 2006)

IT STILL HAPPENS NOW

I’d like to go camping in the desert—
just to feel the silence
around us and see the brightness
of the stars. And to have
no city lights to lead us home.
But it all really depends
on who you camp with.

(25 May 2006)