The Runner

Sea breezes
Grab my hair
Cool my face

Warm, morning sun
Illuminates my path
Heats the back of my neck

 Steady footfalls
Rubber on pavement
Rhythmic motion
One - two
Inhale - exhale

 Solitary
No opponent
Clipping at my heels
No crowd
Cheering my name
No finish line
With waiting officials

Just me
Internal coach
Personal cheerleader

Push!
You got this!
Don't give up!
Further!

Muscles strain
Every step
Driving limbs
Arms pump
Legs propel
Mind reaching

Mental list
Motivation
Improve my health
Shed the pounds
Personal best
Time for me
Just to prove I can


 July 2012

Your Journey

can’t you see it?

it is so clear to me

I see all the road signs

pointing the way

the same signs I followed

choosing for my own future

but you aren’t following them

you seem to deliberately ignore them

choosing instead to find the unmarked trail

are you watching down the road?

didn’t you see the sign for that cliff ahead?

my life is happy

it is all I want for you

glad I chose this route

still walking my road

but you are just starting out

your journey is a long one

are you watching your feet?

not looking ahead?

that is what will get you in trouble

focusing on the moment

how can I let you go?

I want to tie a leash to your wrist

keep you close

and safe

if you head for the cliff

you would be anchored to me

But you cut the ties

you burn your bridges

as you cross them

making a U-turn nearly  impossible

my tears come for your pain

the suffering you find constantly

each crash after climbing too high

I know you are not me

I know you have to choose your own path

but can’t it be a safer one?

one travelled and mapped?

one to a definite outcome?

I can’t see your destination

so I wring my hands

and I pray

letting you go

loving you through the potholes

and the quicksand

and the stinging nettles

Home is here

when you turn to see us

our light will be burning

as a beacon

just know

my heart breaks

watching you

live your own life

November 23, 2011

The Juggler

The young man stands centre stage

In his hands

Three

Brightly coloured

Balls

The lights come up

His easy smile draws the crowd in

He’s done this before

In a wave of motion

The balls are expertly tossed

One by one by one

Intricate circles

Made by the bean-filled orbs

The crowd gives polite applause

Acknowledging his skill

But they have seen it done

By him

By others

A stranger emerges from the crowd

Pulling something from his coat pocket

A hacky-sack

Another colourful ball

Close in size to the rest

He tosses it into the mix

The expert Juggler

Not missing a beat

Weaves the projectile

Into the dance

The crowd cheers for the deviation

From the norm

A woman stands

Pulling a child’s beach ball from her bag

Lighter

Larger

She throws it into the path

Of the oncoming balls

The Juggler

Again

Recovering from his shock

Begins to toss the larger ball

With the rest

The difference in weight

And size

Make it hard to meld the new ball

Into the old routine

Keeping him on his toes

The crowd loves it

Now they search their own pockets

For globe-like objects

To be a part of the show

From stage left

A stress ball

From stage right

A tennis ball

The Juggler’s face begins to show

The inner workings of his mind

Franticly working

To stay professional

Cope through the distractions

After all

The crowd has never been this happy

Never cheered this loudly

Before

From right in front of the performer

Someone throws

A perfume bottle

Somewhat round

But not a ball

Heavier

Smaller

 Possible consequences of a mistake

Much worse

The juggler

Barely able to catch it

Holds on tightly

Until the next ball requires his attention

He must let go

Of the delicate piece of glass

The crowd is on their feet

They love the added danger

The break from the ordinary

Another glass bottle is thrown

And another

The balls begin to match the bottles

In number

The poor entertainer

Loving the applause

Dreading the surprises

Pulls off spectacular feats

Twisting and turning

The choreography is changed

For the new coming dancers

Everything is working

Perfectly

Until

The juggler begins to grow weary

His hands feel like oven mitts

His arms muscles burn

The objects are blurring

Hard to tell which

Is soft and forgiving

And which

Is hard and unyielding

A moment comes

He knows he is going to fail

Something must drop

He watches carefully

For the ones

That will be alright

Without his hands

Will be caught by others

Or fall harmlessly

Ready for another try

Another day

But he hates to fail

He loves the applause

The admiring looks

The astonishment

The admiration

He’s never felt those eyes on him

Not in that way

So he tries to hold on

Push a little harder

Ask a little more from his body

And his mind

A few more moments gained

Another round of applause

To feed his tired ego

The first to drop

Was the perfume bottle

The shattering

Was accompanied

By a groan

And a gasp

From the audience

The scent wafted through the air

To proclaim his mistake

To anyone who was near enough

to smell it

The next was a small coloured ball

It rolled from the stage

Into the crowd

Lost under  feet

The Juggler mourned its loss

As it was his own

A personal favourite

One that had helped him learn

His trade

Someone decided

Mercy

Was needed

And cut the lights

On the pending disaster

In the pitch black theatre

The sounds of falling

Crashing

Bouncing

Breaking

And sobbing

And the running footsteps

Fleeing the chaos

Of the performer

Who couldn’t let

Anything

Fall

February 22, 2011

Adoption

Not just a pen
A plastic tube
Infused with ink
For the single moment
When tip meets parchment
Ink expelled into fibres
Creating a lasting mark
A permanent vow
A signature
Neatly printed on a scrap of paper

Not just paper
Compressed pulp
With typed words
And signatures
Of grave importance
The responsibility of just one
A name

Not just a name
Letters combined
Into a symbol
For a person
An appellation
To indicate
A human masterpiece
One individual
In a core unit
A family

Not just a family
A home
Laughter and Tears
Shouts and Adoration
Consolation and Correction
Devotion and Love
Woven together
Through history
Through struggle
Through choices
Into an ever changing tapestry
Including each single piece

Not just a piece
A life
Connected to the others
With duct tape
And band-aids
Now pierced
By a needle
Creating a tiny hole
Through which
An unbreakable filament
Is yanked
And pulled
Tightly
Until the ragged edges
Abut those of the others
Overlapping
Puzzle pieces
Fill all the gaps
Left by scars
Hatred
Rejection
So many attempts
To glue this piece
To so many others
But the inevitable holes
Each time
Showed the light of day
But not this time

Each stitch
Expertly sewn
Smoothly creating
An almost unnoticeable seam
Different from the others
In its colour and thickness
But complementary in its design
A permanent home
For the little piece
To grow
And love
And believe

Not a single piece
A part of a whole
The work that was incomplete
Without that piece
Lacking
Unknowingly insufficient
Now beautiful
Strong
Able to add layers
Borders to the outside
Because inside
Cohesive Artwork
Created
By THE Creator


November 16, 2009

God's-Eye View

Of all the mysteries

Surrounding

Our creator

Our maker

The Lord of the Universe

The one mystery

That eludes me

Most often

Is the way

He seems to

Like

Me

Most days

I barely like

Myself

Tolerate

At best

My imperfections

Strides towards

Total self-destruction

My utter lack of will power

The inability to change

Anything

About myself

To paraphrase

St. Paul

What I want to do

I can’t manage to pull off

What I want to avoid

Seems to drag me into its path

Seems to surround me

All these failures

These terrible character traits

Seem to be enough

To push away

The friends and acquaintances

Who can’t stand loudmouths

Who judge my devotion to God

Who give me the once over

And cast me aside

Like a second from the factory

To be sold at a discount

To the lower classes

The friendless

Not the popular

Or the In crowd

It is no wonder

That my mirror

Is distorted

I see through their perceived

Eyes

No longer a true image

The flaws hide the beauty

No longer optimistic

Depressed thoughts

Drag me deeper

Into the abyss

Of self-criticism

How does the Maker

Feel about the disparagement

Of his masterpiece?

The quirks and imperfections

He so carefully chose

To compliment

The strengths

To build the character

Of his chosen child

His view is also distorted

He is colour blind

To the shades of

The outer shell

The masks

I wear

He sees only the

Heart

The inner beauty

The passions

Emotions

Intentions

Those I love

The traits I wish

I could show the world

I don’t need to hide

From Him

There would be

No point

He’d find me

I’m on His radar

He knows me best

Yet He still

Likes me

In spite of

Because of

The chinks

In my armour

That allow Him

To get inside

To move inside

My soft heart

My desire?

To see

Me

Through His eyes

To know me

Better

As He knows me

To one day

Like myself

The way God

Likes me

June 30, 2009

My Apology

It's inevitable

My mouth

The trouble-maker

Getting me into

Sticky situations

Hurting those closest to me

Those I care for

Those who used to care for me

Before

The iron grip

I wish to have

On my tongue

Can never be strong enough

Can never hold the reigns

Turn the steed in the right direction

Away from danger

Ruin

Despair

Apologies

Never enough

Absolutely

The lamest

Most ridiculous

Excuses

There ARE no excuses

My mistakes

My words

Once set free

To roam the air

Seeking ears

Seeking minds

To contaminate

Always the same

A careless comment

Made in humour

Begins the slippery descent

The laughter becomes forced

Awkward

Regret

Never enough words to explain

Never enough time to retrace the steps

To reel it all back in

Take it all back

I know

The pain in my heart

The empty thud

In the pit of my stomach

Must

Be worse than the offense

You feel

Berating my stupidity

Utter lack of self-control

Complete human-ness

Repeated transgressions

The path walked so many times

Now familiar

Rutted by my heavy feet

I wish I could cry

I wish I could use my tears

Salted water

Wash away my shame

My guilt

Clean the slate

But all I have is another word

Completely inadequate

Yet somehow

Poetic justice

That a word is what I cling to

My life preserver

My last hope

Of forgiveness

Rests in a word

Yet to be spoken

Sorry

(June 29, 2009)