First Light

I caught the first light
in those few hours
when the innocence
of the world
played open
like a child’s skirts,
twirling in the breeze
with the sheer joy
of being alive.




First Light


Ancient Circle

Now I awaken,
grief and fear
drained from my body,
words of prayer
green as summer
rising with the faith
of sunlight.
Like a black winged crow
brooding on the roof top
I pick at scavenger bits,
cawing to the world
my dissatisfaction,
but today I am stripped,
open like a river,
the voice of the eternal
written on a leaf,
on the sound of a bird.
We come as four nations
in the colors of our skin,
the circle we form
ancient and undying.
I bow as I enter
and take my place
among the stones,
the sea creatures,
the insects,
the humans.
We repent
and sing with joy,
forgive and are forgiven.
This day we dance
and the dance is for life.
Now I awaken.



Dispatch from the Front

There are terrors
that restrain the heart
with iron fence
where open land
once graced the sky.
You see it in a child’s eyes,
feel it in your chest
when theft becomes an option.
It’s too late to blame,
only time for the music you can make,
your dispatch from the front
opening the heart against all odds
to marshal the forces of kindness.




Rising on the Old Rope

The uncertainty of night
and random dreams pass,
the empty bucket of morning
echoing dully as it lifts
from the deeper darkness,
drawing up the cool draught
of what rises on the old rope
to the trembling light of day.




Endless Page

The words I speak or write
do they really matter
beneath the waterfall of life,
the tragedy and loss
and wandering in the dark.
I have so much fear
I don’t acknowledge,
so much I once hoped for,
wanting to be unique,
wanting the world
to reflect my longing.
But when I listen
I find the old voice
within the roar,
a plodding slow paced
faltering reminder
of the ancient
spoken through sand
and broken monuments,
the rise and fall
and dreams of glory
like fallen leaves
and moldering earth,
a filament reaching
back through time
threading me
into the weave
of all who’ve lived
and left a mark
on the endless page
of this flowing river.



Footprint in Stone