Mirror, mirror
on the wall,
who’s the fairest of them all?
The brave, child,
and the strong.
The truth seekers and speakers.
The fighters and the learners,
the survivors who tell their tale.
Those who stand for what is right
and stay up, child, when the
world beats
their knees
with fists of complacency and greed.
And the growers, my dear, the growers!
The ones who make our minds and
our earth
fertile and ripe and ready for seed.
The dreamers and the doers.
The hopers and the prayers.
The thought-makers
and risk-takers
and those who believe enough to bleed.Copyright (c) 2012
You speak
As though it were normal
As if I belonged here
And you there
And the miles between, nothing.Copyright (c) 2009
The insects keep
Melodic beat
With the night
A pulsating buzz
Confident in its
Ability to give dimension
To the dark
The hum lulls
Even me
To sleep
To sleep
Copyright (c) 2009
I slept on the sofa
Lulled by the whir
Of the ceiling fan
And the steely gray of the sky
Not a foreboding gray but
One full of the promise of warm rain
The kind against which
I did not draw the blinds.
And outside the window
I heard the lady neighbors
Enjoying the first laughter
Of spring
The warmth of pavement under their feet
And the way their voices once again
echoed around the lot.
And with my eyes sliding shut
I painted the scene in my mind
So I would remember it was a good day.Copyright (c) 2009
I hold my hand up
against the din of the world
fighting the noise.
The pointless
irrational
soul-destroying
Noise.
Lost somewhere in there
I know
is the relative silence
of dreams and youth
and the simple belief
in hope.
Copyright (c) 2009
