Sunday, November 27, 2016

Does the leaf disrespect?
When it whines to the wind
of the places it's been
and the troubles it's seen.
When it sees the world whirling by
out of control,
in its dry crumbling roll
and its twisted air-lifted
expulsion from place.
When it loses its view
from the the top of the tree
down to low as can be,
and beginning to moulder.
Is it ruder and bolder
than nicety demands,
to look at the winds
that takes out of your hands
the precious, the needed,
and say wind I bleed?
Or is it an honesty
born of the knowing
that no one can talk of
their coming and going.

Proof of God
The beautiful words
And the terrible words
And the pain pain pain.
The secret thoughts
And the secret words
And the deep dark pain.
The sacrifice
No one ever sees
The quiet act
Done to serve or please
The inner voice
And the difficult choice
And the white hot pain.
The fading hope
And the dying dreams
Of what might have been.
The broken heart 
And the wasted life
And the agonizing
Loss that is death 
And the wish to live
And the wish to die
And the pain pain pain.