Woolgatherer

Wool

Woolgatherer
Where were you?
When I was a wondering
Lost
Lonely
Longing
Lamb, looking for a kindred soul.

I was there.
Inviting in dissonant imps
Frauded
Forsaken
Fucked
Finding wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Then you found me.
Wielding your wooden staff,
A shepherd in shining armor.
Chasing off the wild hounds and
Woolgathering the tufts
Of those shedding sheep
From the bare branches
Left in the pasture.
You collected each bit of me
In your field basket until
It was filled to the brim.
Shouldered my weight
Back to your hearth.
By the warmth of the fire
Spun me into solid fiber,
Long and broad,
Sturdy and strong.
Finally, woven together
Strand by strand,
Each stitch carefully intentional
And constructed a new material.

Early Morning On the Track

Old Skool

Early Morning On the Track

Feet settle into the cinders.
Momentum – pent up and trapped
inside those legs, wound so tight.

The cage door snaps open
releasing the dogs into the night
under the brilliant glow of a full moon.
Fleeing like the imprisoned animals
they had become.
Each begins at breakneck speed,
fanning out in hasty footsteps.
Only to quickly merge
back into their pack.
Gathering the group in synchronicity,
strides matched side to side,
rhythm of the run returns.

The breath conforms, as well.
It, too, finds a natural cadence
working in conjunction with the pace set.

As if the opening act
has finished its set
and now on the main stage
the featured band will perform.
Artistry honed and in perfect harmony.
Masterful movement of the music,
with all the integral instruments
playing their parts of this melodic mix.
An opus begging for ovation
from the audience of one.

Playing with Light
203/366

I Walk In Truth

Emerge Into the Light

I Walk In Truth
Big olive muck boots
Wading, Crusading
Through crude, thick sludge
Grinding, Defining
For one soul to drudge
Stumbling, Tumbling
Face first in the mire
Resuming, Assuming
Life’s harder as a liar
Straining, Draining
The well until it’s dry
Striving, Driving
Inspiration to glide by
Toiling, Recoiling
And wavering to press on
Enduring, Assuring
This destiny is foregone

 

I walk in truth. This is true.
Not always.
As a child I told a multitude of lies.

White ones.
Bold ones.
Cover-ups.
Deflections.
Bluffs.
Bullshit.

But all kids do.

The trick is trying to teach your kids to be honest, yet, kind at the same time.

The best I have come up with is explaining that walking in truth does not mean saying everything aloud. It does not mean letting loose every thought and emotion. It means thinking. Thinking, hard and long sometimes, before telling your truth. Not telling lies in the interim. Not misrepresenting yourself. Not fabricating an answer. Not fibbing to spare feelings. But sitting in it and really finding your truth.

It means not yelling out, “I HATE YOU!” Is that your truth? Or will 5 minutes from now you regret saying that?

And it’s okay to answer, “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure” if that is where your truth lies. If saying your truth may mean someone gets hurt, then you better make damn sure it is your truth.

And if it is…
Then say it.
Spout it.
Be it.
And put on your muck boots and walk in it.
For it will guide you into the sunshine and allow you to grow.

Coming of Age

Between Two Ages

Coming of Age
Staring pointedly into my eyes
I remove my sunglasses
To truly see the woman before me.

Only to find a girl.
Cast into the body of a woman
Uncomfortable in her own aging skin.

Innocence and naivety embodying
This maturing shell.
She is unable to coalesce the two.

Youthful, wide-eyed elder
Unsure of her place in the world.
And where she is meant to travel.

Packing her suitcases prudently,
Filled with games and trinkets
She heads out on her journey

Entering the great, big adult world.
Baby doll in the crook of her elbow,
Blankie tailing after her,

She must find her way alone,
No bread crumb trail laid.
It’s time to tiptoe into a new season.

201/366

Death’s Dinner Break

Death’s Dinner

Death’s Dinner Break
I hold her frail fingers
Listen for each faint breath
As closing time lingers
And in marches death

Smile on face, bag in hand
No black robe or sickle
Sits down with no demand
Eats his sub and pickle

Wiping his face neatly
He looks at his watch
Kisses her head sweetly
She’s not just one more notch

He looks my way kindly
His eyes tell me what’s next
I need not act blindly
My heart is not perplexed

He picks her up gently
Like a child ready for bed
I watch this all intently
Without an ounce of dread

She is in good arms
Better than what’s here
No more beeping alarms
Worry can disappear

As he goes to the door
He nods and gives a wink
Peace he brought and more
I still need a stiff drink

200/366

Are You Out There

Pursuit

Are You Out There
I’ve searched and scrambled
Trying to find you
Lost among the stars
Hidden behind the sun
Exiled to join celestial bodies
Leaving the whole of me
Here, earthly bound
And unable to reach you
In my eminent pursuit
I have unearthed not a sign
Nor a trace of your essence
The mind’s eye
Awaits your aura
Attending to every turn
Studying every storm
Waiting for the rain
Calling to the gods of thunder
To open the skies
And allow the lightning
To guide my way
Right into the cosmos
Deep into your eyes