interior

These scraps
colored glass
melted and molded
made mosaic
a heart
shattered
contrived
a multicolored
window
such
deceptive light
effects
outside world
appears ethereal
haunting
the prisoner
prohibits
viewing inside
assembled puzzle
pieces forced
disjoint
deceptive perception
questions where
to find
that path
the searching
salvation.

heart

shattered

a window cracked today
without a sound
I saw the spider’s silk
slowly spread across the pane
like translucent lightning
in an icy world
hauntingly drawing me
into another daydream
a child in white runs, turns, smiles,
the sun glimmers in my eye
and the child is gone.
I’m in a room, no windows, no doors,
no way out
looking up I see the painful sky
a giant bird of prey swoops
metamorphosing into streaks
sienna and umber, teeth and claws.
through a tiger’s eye, deer
hundreds run together
a pang of hunger strikes
lust, desire.
run, run.
run like the child in white
in the distance,
heat thunder crashes
the glass burst
lies shattered about my feet
silvery splinters
tiny tears of blood
shed upon the cold wooden floor
as reality emerges again
in surprise.

Elegy

It was with fury that blue steel wrapped
its arms around you for your final embrace
as the warmth of your gracious presence
here expanded outward into space
leaving a mark against the dark night sky
as an angel’s kiss or colorful God’s eye.

We here are left alone with memory
of sunny days and celebrations shared,
a newborn’s tiny smile looking up at you
knowing how gently you loved and cared
for those who were lucky enough to be held
within your circle forever unfulfilled

“Maybe you were spared from some worse fate”,
is all that can be said to ease the pain
of transition, an earthly angel laid
out on satin, future dreams cold and slain
across the country roads that hide in shame
as the wind tickles treetops with your name.

A marching band leads the way down Main Street –
in silence they all pray, lament the loss
of their leader and friend who’s seventeen
years came to an end making her way across
the dangers of asphalt rivers bent
on fragile spirits to be taken and spent.

“Mark, time, mark,” a procession for you
who, silently, in short time did touch
the souls of so many with crystal moments,
laughter sunsets, and strawberry dreams. Such
are the gifts left behind for a family sure
she now watches over from the Ever-After.

– Previously Published 1995

angelic