Occupational Hazard

You gave me a halo to wear long ago,

In exchange for the soapbox I slipped under your feet.

I was comfortable, watching you speak,

Lost in the crowd, humble and meek.

My voice was lost in the surrounding throng,

As my senseless body was pushed along,

My sight, perverted by the daily show,

My gaze, averted by the shame of defeat.

And then, the sound that struck a chord,

The sound of silence across the board.

Looking up, beyond your eyes,

I saw the heavens and heard the cries

Of our sisters watching us down below,

Praying their mistakes we not repeat.

Feeling in my extremities regained,

I tore off the halo your ego had stained.

F**k the image you created of me,

Take back your shackles, I’m done, I’m free.

I’ll take back my soapbox from long ago,

And under my shadow you can have a seat.

When Pigs Can Fly

Northern lights in the south,

A cloud on the ground,

A rainbow with an end,

A pin dropping with a sound—

The hopeful musings

Of an almost hopeless soul

Weigh on the spirit

And take their toll

On the fragile frame

Keeping it all intact,

While the mind keeps searching

For what the heart has lacked.

Yet the spirit holds on

To the thinnest thread

And stays on the most

Trodden of paths to tread,

Deluded by the mirage

Of dreams, fulfilled,

Hopelessness, abated,

And the chance to build

An impregnable stronghold

From the broken glass,

In which fruitful are the trees

And barren is the past.

The torch is lit

And we carry it fast,

Fanning the fleeting flames

To make them last.

If the light burns out

And we are left in the dark,

We steady a rock

To light a new spark.

And on the dimly lit path

We continue to stumble

Along our blind quest,

yet our hopes do not crumble.

In the shadows, we discern

Where our predecessors lie,

But upon closer inspection

We let out a cry—

We see ourselves,

The ghosts of our past

Having been here before,

Caught in the net we had cast

While trying to catch our dream.

Startled we run on the familiar road,

Deaf to the warnings

We do not want to decode.

This time we will reach it,

The oasis we seek,

We will climb the mountain

To its shimmering peak.

This time the journey

Will have an end

And will not repeat itself

Around the next bend.

Patience is a virtue, indeed,

But how long must we wait

To reach the view

That will reveal us our fate?

How hard must our limbs work,

How far must we walk,

Until we see a pig fly

Instead of a hawk?

How many pennies spent,

How many chocolates bought,

Until we find the golden ticket

And receive our happy lot?

How many smiles shared,

How many gazes lost,

Until the reward

Surpasses the cost?

Questions unanswered

As life’s questions are,

We shoot past the moon

For the farthest star,

Hoping for the star to fall

To make our ponderings true,

That heart break simply forged the way

For love to follow through.

But, alas, our anxious aim

Fails to strike the mark,

And doubt makes a swift return

To join us in the dark. 

Fear

There’s a knock at the door.

Ear pressed against the pillow,

Your senses are stifled, and,

Comfortable as you are,

The sound you ignore.

There’s a cry from outside.

Tossing and turning

To block the noise,

You can’t escape it,

Hard as you try.

There’s a familiar sound.

The putrid smell

Of your heart once burned

Beats against the windowpane,

Barred by your lessons learned.

Scarred by the last eclipse,

You keep closed the blinds

And keep still the pain,

Holding to the Fear

In whom solace you found.

Sweet Escape

Take me away to foreign shores

Where life, though short,

Is sweetened by the honey of fruit

That sugar your lips and soften your tongue

To whisper the stars into my eyes

And the clouds beneath my feet.

Sing me to the Skies

And I’ll chant you to the Lands

That the greatest loves have tested

And the truest loves have witnessed,

And in your melody wrap my heart

And shelter it beneath your canopy.

In your tender arms, caress my soul

And lift it above the trees,

And look at me with that smile of yours

That induces me to swoon.

Then, take me away, come, take me away,

And fly me to the moon.

Tribute to Aqualung

Do you still remember

September’s foggy breeze,

The sweet delusion of novelty

Clouding our minds with

Thoughts of what could be,

The same mist that

Dampened our hearts

And blinded our eyes

To the otherwise lucid reality

That Winter would soon arrive

To turn our mist into frost?

I can still remember,

For History repeats itself

And all hope is lost.

Five Years Gone

Darkness falls as I await your return,
Anxious for another day to end, for another chance
To see your face, your smile, to hear your voice
And feel your embrace.
How long I’ve wandered astray, fearful of the emptiness
And hesitant to search.
For what could fill the void you left?
What if there is no answer?
What if there is no hand held out nor arms stretched wide?
And so I wait, wait for you to find me,
For you to tell me what questions to ask.
Then, you will give me the answers.
You, who have the power to make me listen.
And so in silence I wait, closing my eyes to the night,
Remembering the answers you gave by the stream,
When last in my sleep our spirits took flight.
How sweet is the night whose stars guide you to my dreams.

I love you, Mimi.
February 7, 1937 - August 9, 2005

Exposed

At Winter's end
The bare tree stands alone,
Bereft of leaves,
Of self-importance,
Paralysed by December's merciless frost,
Until the Sun's shy breath,
Diffused through the tinted sky,
Begins to thaw the jaded bark.

As the ice melts,
The echo of Winter
Mocks Spring's naivete
With a mess of wet soil,
Tainted snow, and
Wrinkled Leaves
That can just barely remember
A glimmer of their youth
As the hesitant rays
Reflect on the last flakes of snow.