Freedom…Just another word for nothing left to lose.
As the season’s merge…
I cannot help but think of how it is with us.
The inherited panic and fear.
The constant need to disappear.
Just when a trail has been laid…
Just as time has been weighed…
Our over shadowed life becomes displayed. ∞
And, with that knowledge,
we continue to bear the fruit.
An oath to a world of soiled roots. ∞
It is an overcast day.
Guess, sometimes it has to be that way.
Civilized words for a shut book.
Theology has yet to devise a means in which to get you…
off the hook. ∞
No matter how much I scour my mind…
with the salts of the earth…
The winds of change have not stopped.
They take comfort in the calm before the storm.
Yet, they are never completely gone. ∞
And, so the story goes,
some hostages are held by fear and dread.
Others by a custom-made bed.
I wonder if you had been frightened staring down the barrel of a dark tunnel
Now and again, I sneak a peak to where you have gone
I grance and wonder
had the bleak scope made an impact
Did you understand where you stood
had those faint and painful smiles been a matter of what we have always done?
Lying there with your god and your rosaries had there been relief or repentence?
Tunnels have a way of squeezing out the memories
Memories, so long over looked.
In the end of your travels could you stop worrying about that which has not happened yet?
I thought like you…I had been raised to
Not once did the light at the end of the tunnel open up to anything new
Glancing up and around, and threw, as you did, could there ever be all that you wanted to do
In spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace.” “We adopt the means of
nonviolence because our end is a community at peace with itself. We will try to persuade with our words, but if our words fail, we will try to persuade with our acts. #Martin Luther King Jr.
If there is a battle
I hope my head always defers to my heart
Some…things, so beautiful…one must look away.
Of these things,
set us apart.
Moments worth capturing…yet, set so
you wonder about the state of your heart.
A corner curls just a trifle from the far reaches of her parted lips.
A nuance clutches your breathing.
Something that never was…
Something that did not always fit.
It is the kind of love that ruptures and raptures your heart…
Though it was not yours, you watch it, well lit.
Even if it is somebodies love you did not know.
It was someone’s else love to have and to hold.