Which is the face I present today?
Strong, tender, angry, sad...
My hand hesitates with so many choices
I hope it lets kindness win.
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poem. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Hummingbird
Whisper soft come the words
"I am here... I am safe"
Not spoken, surely
But there nonetheless
Speaking peace to my mind.
Gentle the touch that follows
"I will be with you always"
Not a physical moment
But I feel it throughout my being
Speaking peace to my soul.
Sweet moments that come
In times of sorrow or doubt
The reassurance
That my loved ones are still there
Waiting for the day we are reunited again
Grandparents, friends, brothers....
All of these I have lost in life
Not gone from me
But just around the bend
...writing themselves on my heart with the touch of hummingbird wings.

"I am here... I am safe"
Not spoken, surely
But there nonetheless
Speaking peace to my mind.
Gentle the touch that follows
"I will be with you always"
Not a physical moment
But I feel it throughout my being
Speaking peace to my soul.
Sweet moments that come
In times of sorrow or doubt
The reassurance
That my loved ones are still there
Waiting for the day we are reunited again
Grandparents, friends, brothers....
All of these I have lost in life
Not gone from me
But just around the bend
...writing themselves on my heart with the touch of hummingbird wings.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Fallen Children
We have wandered far afield from the morals of our youth
Into fields that, from a distance, appeared green and verdant
But were full of stagnant pools and choked with weeds
So what changed
Were we too ambitious to see our path had diverged
Or too enamored with little novelties to see the pitfalls within
So confident in our own abilities that we blind ourselves to the truth
That we are in trouble
And I wonder
Is it too late to reclaim the innocence of our younger days
Turn from those fields, retrace our steps
And find the road we left so long ago
Or perhaps forge new pathways back to more innocent times
Is it possible to leave behind bloodshed and anger against our brother
After all, Cain killed Abel and wars have been fought for as long as we have existed
Maybe we are hopelessly flawed, but I still choose to believe
That we will stop bickering amongst ourselves and try
Extending a helping hand instead of a club
That we can stop with the finger pointing and name calling
To learn to love one another instead of finding fault
That we can once again find the golden days of our youth
Maybe it is only a dream; for childhood is full of bullies and pushing and shoving
Perhaps those days were not so golden after all, but rather tarnished brass
But still I hope
Into fields that, from a distance, appeared green and verdant
But were full of stagnant pools and choked with weeds
So what changed
Were we too ambitious to see our path had diverged
Or too enamored with little novelties to see the pitfalls within
So confident in our own abilities that we blind ourselves to the truth
That we are in trouble
And I wonder
Is it too late to reclaim the innocence of our younger days
Turn from those fields, retrace our steps
And find the road we left so long ago
Or perhaps forge new pathways back to more innocent times
Is it possible to leave behind bloodshed and anger against our brother
After all, Cain killed Abel and wars have been fought for as long as we have existed
Maybe we are hopelessly flawed, but I still choose to believe
That we will stop bickering amongst ourselves and try
Extending a helping hand instead of a club
That we can stop with the finger pointing and name calling
To learn to love one another instead of finding fault
That we can once again find the golden days of our youth
Maybe it is only a dream; for childhood is full of bullies and pushing and shoving
Perhaps those days were not so golden after all, but rather tarnished brass
But still I hope
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