No Crystal Ball

Some days
ain’t worth the trouble
some troubles
are worth every
day you have to give.

Without a crystal ball
the only way to see
which it’s going to be
is to get out of
bed and live

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Bottles Cast

In the midst of the tragedy
prayers went up
like startled quail
like balloons at the party
like fireworks on the 4th
desperate petitions for God
to align His will with our own.

But we are again left trying
to understand what cannot
be understood, looking for
some seed of future good
in the scorched earth of our lives

Learning for the umpteenth time
that Faith is aligning our wills with His
being grateful for blessings we’ve had
holding on to the ones we still have
believing in the promise of someday
believing there will be some gain in the pain

and our prayers are notes
in bottles cast into the sea
Lord, we are still here
make us what you want us to be
show us how to go on
without the ones you’ve set free

This Union

The fabric was torn in 2013, but you can’t unplay a symphony. The echoes have a mind of their own.

At one time, perhaps,
this union
was the casually tentative alliance
of two vaguely kindred spirits,
Lewis & Clark of the soul
in search of Emotional Passages.
Perhaps two dancers engaged in defining
the parameters of a certain joy, bodies
working in pleasantly passionate harmony
with the understanding that the contract
would last as long as the music.

Surprise.
We began to generate our own music,
and threads of experience became this
tightly woven tapestry of a rich history which
continues to blossom growingly each day, our
simple melody evolving into the symphony of
this Union.

Not Quite Guilty

Regular common events
agreed to measure
the passage of time
continue to occur regularly.
My suspicion that I should
actually be a ghost now
makes my enjoyment of them
a not quite guilty pleasure

The fear that I’ve really
been a ghost for years
experiencing an elaborately
constructed hellish heaven
or heavenly hell is not something
a sane person should consider
so I try not to

Rather focusing on
the beauty of regular
common events in faith
that I am experiencing time
in the common regular way

Red Letter

Red letter days
start out like the others
pregnant with promise
under ominous clouds
but beyond birthings and dyings
few are nailed down frozen
even holidays tend to melt
together. So every day is
an anniversary, we’re just not
sure of what. Most memories
don’t have dates associated
but float in clouds of good and bad.

So on my sixty-fifth crack
at this date, I don’t expect
to make history, but I’ll cross
the bridges I come to. One never knows
what’s on the other side, and
if I make the sixty-sixth
maybe I’ll remember this one.

Once

Not as good as I once was
wasn’t that good to start with
I just held on for dear life
and tried not to act confused
Now sorting through the rubble
wondering what’s left to part with
and wishing that it didn’t
come down to win or lose

Forgetting how things feel
is the only way time heals
forgetting you would be
some kind of sin
I never was as good
as I once thought I was
but just once I’d like
to feel that good again

No Surprise

Looking through God’s eyes
this beauty comes as no surprise
a little art in the evening sky
a human heart may wonder why
we so often fail to see
the gifts given to you and me
to do better is our vow
even though we’re not sure how