Graduation

He smiles graciously as he accepts the white envelopes filled with the currency of wisdom.  He is now a man child, stepping eagerly into his future, ready to leave it all behind for the promise. Freedom in a city that speaks of revolution and American history he readily walks out of and into.  And yet his history stays behind; Mother and Father and sister, each quiet with their own thoughts, each wondering what their future brings. A bittersweet moment, filled with tears of  gratitude washed away with tears of sorrow.

We've done our job they think. Raised him, protected him, fed him and loved him.  Now we turn the reins over to the man child wishing for a moment that the man was only a child.

How Old Are You?

Age settles on her like a cloak of fine silk, unnoticed and smooth.  She is aware of its presence in subtle ways; a line, a spot and in the lingering absence of the one gone before.  Years have past as the water of her life rushes over the falls collecting speed with each passing year and like some invisible dam she tries to hold back the reality of the numbers that continually creep up towards decades of experience. There is no weight to the age she carries but rather a gentle comfort and silent acceptance of the quiet imposed by a life worn well.

Feelings

It was a real surprise to find myself sitting squarely in my past.

To be comfortable and settled in a room filled with familiar faces and furniture.

I dusted off the old memories, wiped away the years of untouched thoughts

I ran my fingers over the drawings and paintings which spoke of things long ago.

This house was somehow familiar but changed. They were the foundation of love and family holding

fast to their lives and to those they love.   Swaying in the rocking chair the one that

rocked so many babies over the years I leaned in closer to capture that which I had long

To be present to, the wisdom, the age, the stories.  All part of my history but severed by

inexperience.  It was a bittersweet day, the memories restored, the good and the bad.  It was holding hands with the woman that touched a place so deep that it took twenty-four more hours to well up.

Feelings she said.  “You always cared about their feelings.”  Little did she know that she was the one

Who taught me how.

The Hollow Place

I awaken with a start and the hollow place calls to me

Like caves of barren soil my mind searches for the light

My breathe steady and shallow like some sleeping creature

Yet fully awake

The hollow place demands my attention as I try to push it aside

Begging it to go away, to leave me alone, to settle somewhere

it haunts me all the day,

long like a burden of unbearable weight

Oddly light, not as a feather but as a child

The hollow place calls deep to my soul, stirring my heart provoked by

Nothing, hidden to the world it remains ever present and alert

Change

We are changed by the cascading waterfall of our choices. 

Relentless and powerful, sucked under by the current

we circle until, like some rejected thought we surface fighting for air

Finding purchase we are plunged once again into the new

Victory

The forlorn victory mirrored in the morning sky a moment of recall and a heart that wonders why

The path laid out in circular fashion peppered with an occasional sigh void of passion.

Grasping at the journey behind in order to make sense of where the road winds

Present moments in the journey not found than it matters not where we are bound.

Each living memory and efforts made thus bring depth and beauty to each of us

The forlorn victory no matter the place changes our hearts and leaves an empty space

Desire

This longing; this ever present desire to sit with You

like water to my soul quenching all.

 I see the space created by desire there in my living room

The one with the chair, the end table, the

 book and the pen. 

Stopping briefly I look longingly at the space

And  saying to no one at all “soon” as I rush

out the door.