Sunday, July 20, 2014

Please Forgive Me

Mommy Love

Please forgive me

I do what I do
I do what I don't
It's not that I can't
It's just that I won't

I sing when I can
I sing when I shant
The line is not straight
It's more of a cant

What will I do
When life is all through
I'll sit by your bed
and sing songs for you

I'll sing songs for you

Sunday, July 06, 2014

The Divine Liturgy

"Blessed is the Kingdom..."
and the ship that is the
ark of salvation slips its
lines and embarks on a
timeless journey through
storm-tossed seas
of deep mystery and
translucent creatures
whose luminous eyes
frame mouths full of silence.
Incense rolls out over
the water and envelops
the candle-lit vessel
pulsing and floating
like a numinous cloud
on the eternal now.
Angels, winged and
terrible in their beauty,
circle the ship crying,
"Holy, holy, holy,
Lord of Sabaoth.
Heaven and earth
are full of Thy glory."
The Father's protection
and the Mother's embrace
are made palpably present
through the five senses,
a gentle jostling of living icons
in line for bread and wine.
The ship returns to the
shores of time and
the passengers disembark
wide-eyed and blinking,
cup of coffee soon in hand.

Saturday, July 05, 2014

De Profundis

De Profundis

Floating on the surface,
surrounded by the detritus
of unbridled passions
and quiet indifference,
burned by sun and
buffeted by waves.

Even so,

there are moments
of moonlit uncertainty
when I feel the
call of the deep.

Breathing slows
and deepens in
anticipation of the
rare dive,
fear and awe,
a beckoning from
what lies below.

A kick splash
signals the descent
into utter darkness,
enveloped by the
stillness of the
mother's womb,
hearing the heartbeat
of the world,
feeling the brush
of impossible creatures
traversing unknowable spaces.

A bone-crushing
melancholy wells up,
my weakness
drawing me back
to the surface,
where I once more
find myself bobbing
amongst the
litter of my life.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

The Heart's Eye

Beauty blooms 
full for 
the heart's eye* 
to see.

* ὁ νοῦς

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

A Gift from Dad

I'm driving home from work listening to Terry Gross interview singer-songwriter Mary Gauthier on the radio.  She sings "Another Train" while playing her guitar and as the chorus glides in on a wave of melancholy, something magical happens in my car on this lonely Ohio road. 

I'm surprised to hear my voice join in with a piercing tenor line that cuts through my heart like a honey-dipped knife.  It's like some kind of spiritual harmonic has welded our voices together, resonating inwardly and outwardly, bigger and fuller than it should be considering I'm using a falsetto voice to catch those high notes. 

It was my Dad who taught me this little bit of magic, the ability to hear the harmony lines to a song and add my voice to the weave.  It started with him inviting me to sing with him in the church choir in my early teens, standing beside him as he pointed out the tenor line and I tried to follow his lead until I could do it on my own. 

The other harmonic lines soon followed and I have added my voice to the likes of James Taylor, Neil Young, and Natalie Merchant, sometimes while washing the dishes and other times while driving my car.  I can think of few things more precious that my Dad could have given me in this short life, certainly not monetary wealth or other coarse offerings, but the gift of joy in the making of music.

Friday, June 13, 2014

My Son's Closet

My son's closet is as big as it needs to be,
full of books, toys and misplaced articles of clothing.
If one were to clear a space to sit and ponder,
closing the door with an expectant push,
it would expand to encompass
all that is worthwhile in this short life.
The darkness, a comforting presence,
surrounded by familiar objects infused with joy and laughter.
Time would skip along the surface of fond memories,
then sink into something deeper still.