There is life

Verdant, leafy, and green

We seek it out

We surround ourselves with it

Hoard it

Because it runs away

Because it runs out

Like sand through fingers

And we think

Maybe if it remains nearby

It will infect us

It will replenish us

And never deplete

And never diminish

The ghost of mother

It’s never far away

Closer now than life

The irony of it

That you should feel

More present today

Than before

Before

When i should have

Visited more;

I know the truth

It is me, not you

Seeing shapes in the mist

Your face in the clouds

I hear your voice

But never out loud

We are cruel to ourselves

In loneliness

What mythology

Do you weave

To keep your tribe together?

That story

True or not

That keeps them all

In check

Obedient

And content

What stories

Do you spin

To keep the sky blue

To be the sun within?

The best words

Can even convince us

That we are right

With the world

That all is well

Though we are dying

In plain sight

It is not the banker

Not the politician

Nor the corporate CEO

Who drive the world forward

It is the myth maker

The dream weaver

The creator of our imagined

Good and evil spaces

That moves us toward the new

That singer of our joys and fears

That takes us to vintages

Where we can see our promised land

And the way to get there in the end

In contemplating oblivion

One wonders at the point

Of even opening one’s eyes

When you know they will close

Forever

But still we look

And still we see

These things are

A u t o m a t i c

As if life is the imperative

And death simply the byproduct

Do you remember

It was a little over a year ago

The warm sun exploded

And we learned to live

In the deeper dark

Feeling our way along walls

Sometimes accidentally touching

As we sought for new light…

And it was the strangest thing

That the birds went silent

And we were lost in this world

Without music;

But lately I’m hearing new songs

Chirped tentatively far and away

As if the furnace rekindles

And another glow prepares

To take the skies again

Fear hides in the dark

Only the bright light

Of broken down walls

Of wide open spaces

Drives it into sight;

Pull the crowds around you

Bring the eyes to bear

And burn it all to the ground

My column in this week’s Winkler Morden and Altona Rhineland Voice newspapers.

i was standing over the sink
considering the drain
wondering
there’s a lot of DNA in there
beard trimmings,
skin cells,
saliva.
it got me wondering
how many people
have left themselves
here in this 135 year old house
a loose tooth here,
a toe nail there…
evidence of lives
left as ghosts
that sit quietly
waiting on oblivion

these are the thoughts
that pop up
when i step from the shower
stand over the plumbing
and wonder

She said
“Hope is the thing
With feathers”
And she was right
Hope flies
Before our eyes
A wild and free thing
Tempting us
To join it
In the wind
Hope beckons
With soft whispers
So that sometimes
We cannot hear it
Over the noise
That fills the air
But it is there
All the same
Hope continues
And outlasts pain
It is the sun at noon
High in the sky
Banishing shadows
Calling us
To reach up