Jazz musician, army grunt, married three times, retired, dressed-up every morning for a day of aloneness, still practices on electronic drums in his bedroom while watching cable television, waiting for the evening meal to be delivered and open the door with a welcoming smile.
waiting on healing waiting on healing movement is suddenly stopped for those who exit the choir loft of life waiting on healing nobody knows when they will roll out of bed with a fall breaking their neck waiting on healing the sounds of anthems bounce between pillars and posts where last century's cobwebs have been forgotten waiting on healing cross-country visits lessen due to safety precautions inscribed every morning with every day's meaning waiting on healing some records were made to be shattered and broken waiting on healing waiting on healing
Promiser of Promised Promises, promise us forever, for some die young and many live afraid and all want to live just one more day. Amen.
"After offering him a twenty for risking his life on a busy highway, the man who helped change my tire yesterday said, 'No. I needed to do this.'" She answered, "Some people are not born with an innate sense of distaste for compassion." I said, "He was on his way to his father's funeral and needed to remember him best with a generous act." She said, "Sure beats being lost in time with absolutely nothing to do but fill out lifetime subscriptions to the Life and Times of Other People." "Do you think there are many people stranded in the cities and countries with no time off?" I asked. "Stranger things have been known to have happened in the refugee camp of life."
The not-so-famous ones always plan for what happens when they strike it rich.
I awoke remembering the visit of the anima who filled my night. As much as I would like to think she belongs in some biblical sense to me, it is best that I wait for and see to what help is needed by those who do not remember changing their names and where just a bit more comfort, a full-body embrace, creates a generous amount of sunshine that spills out of opened boxes and how some time off helps too, undisturbed by rumors of factions demanding tributes which threaten to strand all subscriptions to life.
We all hope to be admitted to the formal program of eye surgeries and getting groceries, returning from distances traveled where blessings flowed on Sundays and phone calls were made to remember truths inspired by change and disrupted before stable time and mask-wearing. Some transplants work better than others allowing a few to become busy once again making holes in roofs for friends to drop in unexpectedly, challenging the most difficult adage, Play can be work, and serving eggs and toast with strong coffee for breakfast. And still others grow tired of the noisy routine of taping window signs to glass demanding guests cohere to a set of guidelines created by those who talk a great game but fail to enjoy their favorite snack and continually wander around the block of anxiety in need of weeding.
Trailing a chased desire turned memory, Age creeps and twists to white life's diadem. The bench of old men sit in reverie Asking wisps of air shimmering before them: “Where did our time go?” Hours fade and turn. Withering petals whirl and glance to ground. “To dust?” Not yet. Ashes of flesh still burn, Yearning for the touch of a lover soon found. Hidden among pale towns in and out of mist She dances on lanes of glittering stone. Outstretched arms encompass all and, kissed, Inhabitants touch their cheeks, each alone. Wonder grows and grows to eternity. Human and being wrapped in mystery.
enthusiasms atrophy with diminishing interest and become unrecoverable energy lost to the null so time too becomes late for consoling conclusions to be given to or withdrawn from those petitioning for a way to shape something from the nothing which never really existed anyway and kept us from grasping a peace that refused to arrive
Crier, Trumpeter and Caller, who descends from heaven above overflowing graveyards with the declaration, Death is not final, come down gently upon the softened shoulders of those who grieve a daughter that left the land too early, for in our hearts she still lives. Amen.