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Category Archives: Poetry

You’re awake in the middle of the night
A bad dream
Or something akin to one
And from downstairs, I hear you
As you begin to cry
And I respond
It’s my job to keep
You safe, even from the dangers
That aren’t real
(Especially then)
Because you’re still learning
The difference.
And in seconds, I’ve reached
Your door, stepped over
The gate that keeps you
And your little brother from
Roaming the hall at night,
Scooped you up in my arms
And whisked you away
To the light of the
Kitchen.
Soon, you’re calmed by
The promise of a
Cup of milk and
A warm blanket and
Snuggling in my arms
On your favorite couch.
Your smile then is the
Brightest I’ve seen from you in days,
And then I too
Am ready to face the dark again.

Today I paused a moment beside
My son, kneeling in the gentle
Rain as we waited for the first
School bell to ring, and I showed
Him an earthworm, slowly making
Its way across the pavement of
The playground so that he would
Know to step around it as he and
His classmates moved inside.

“For MJ”

We said our farewells to you
Over the weekend
Listened to elegant words
About you
And by you
The subtle jazz tones of a saxophone
Blown across the mountainside
Where we gathered
Wind rustling your favorite
Trees while a caterpillar
Slowly made the long journey
Past my feet
And a white butterfly
Caught the sun
Just right on its wings
And a honey bee
Sought some of the sweetness
Lost in your passing
Nothing to mar the blue
Sky above but our
Fading tears

My infant son

Has been asleep

In my arms

In the rocking chair

For almost ten

Minutes

And I could

Put him back

Into his bed

With his clean sheets

And a dry diaper

And warm pajamas

And a few minutes to

Go until his mother

Can come in

From work in

The office (garage)

To feed him

But I think

That I’ll just sit

Here and hold

Him in my arms

For just another

Quiet

Moment

While the world

Spins

On.

It’s not really an “extra” day, I

Know, but there’s something

Unbelievably special about

One extra night falling asleep

Next to you.

You

are allowed

to write things

that are not

Profound

“Hallowe’en”

 

In distant times, it is said,
People would gather to
Be near to one another on
A cold night, and reflect
On the warmth of those
They had said their final
Farewells to many years
Before.

And on that cold night,
Halfway through the fall,
We remember those no
Longer with us, and we
Bid them to come near,
That we might learn
From them even in
Absentia.

My truth is my own,
And if you cannot
Open your mind to a
Reality that is vastly
Different than the one that
You have always known,
Then perhaps, dearest reader, you
May find that these
Tales are not for you.

If I could, I would always
Walk beside you, not
Holding your hand, but
Simply being there, to
Let you know that I’m
There when you need me.

So much of what my own
Parents said and did now
Makes sense to me, when
I see you taking those
First, cautious, unaided steps
Toward my outstretched hand.

But the best thing that I can
Do is teach you to always
Strive to be kind in a
World that feels more cruel
Now than when I stood,
Aided by my own father’s hands.

 

We often talk, mostly in a
Joking manner, about how
We would like to drink
From the skulls of our
Enemies,
And leaving aside for a
Moment, the practicality
Of just such behavior,
Would it not be a more
Poignant act, albeit less
Intimidating, to do so
From the skull of a
Friend?