A Mourning Loss of Innocence....
1.
There are times when giving all
one needs more yet to give,
and if the search prove fruitless,
it seems absurd to live.
Yet oftentimes absurdity
may be the price we pay,
for finding joy in springtime
and watching children play.
2.
I am the scribe
and well I know the law.
It is my legacy to write it --
as a child writes the alphabet
dutifully --
with the purpose of
knowing,
growing,
and in a small cold moment --
Dying.
3.
I've been the road of womanhood
and dreamed a woman's dream
of loving and caressing you
until you made me scream.
You took me for a lover
then took me by surprise.
You bloodied all my woman things
and ate me with your eyes.
I never knew your male designs
or understood your reason.
I only knew the single road
of following my season.
You drank my love with eager lust
and catered to my blindness.
Then having quenched your cursed thirst
you left me only dryness.
4.
Where souls must touch
then touch no more
In casual encounters.
Where tender minds
must hide their depth
In shallow thoughts and places.
Where human hearts
put on a mask
In cheap and tawdry glances.
Where truth is lost
and cheaply sold
In bitter conversations.
Some sense the loss
or learn to lie
In this new generation.
5.
Where souls must touch to never touch again
In casual encounters forced on deeper kinds of mind.
Shallow souls are winners where men are only faces
and truth is cheapened til it's lost the will to care.
Bitter is the byword of these people of today.
Some feel it, others learn it . . .
It is their only insight into nothing!
6.
Could I but draw some strength from thee
(tho' guilt would bind my heartwood)
I might grow out this tediousness
and bloom despite my tears.
Let me but grasp thy branches once
and from the sap I gain there
my trunk will take on bolder growth --
escape this gnarl of fears.
If I may touch thy heights awhile
(tho' fearing to descend them)
New buds will sprout and leaves spring out
released from dormant years.
And when these things are gained from thee
and I am all accomplished
My roots will gather depth in thee
as joint fulfillment nears.
7.
Don't mix daisies with falling leaves
lest they cease to seek the sun.
Daisies speak of fresher days
and tasks as yet undone.
Don't make snow a spring affair
it needs to fall in winter.
Melting as the robins hatch
to bathe in something gentler.
Don't let seedlings undertake
the task of bearing fruit.
Lest they forget their need to grow
and nourish last year's shoot.
Don't let the sun forget its course
and stay away too long.
Spring has the need of warming rays
until its months are gone.
8.
A mourning wish for permanence
is but a futile claim.
The body wills itself to heal
and the mind must follow suit.
9.
Who must pluck this beauty home
and abdicate the spring?
Who must make the Maple red
and drain away the green?
Who shall tire of budding blooms
and make them go to seed?
Who shall call my spirit home
when life cannot proceed?
10.
I do not seek the rapture
when all our souls will soar.
I hesitate to meet that fate
for fear I'll yearn for more.
11.
Might we regain the Mother now?
. . . forsake our blind ambition.
Bring back the Druid, spurned so long?
. . . unmake our proud sedition.
Can we reclaim the sacred grove?
. . . where first She made us sing.
Relearn her ways of innocence?
. . . and ponder simpler things.
For surely Nature's not undone
. . . despite our mad endeavor.
The oak still grows, the deer still run
. . . the fox is still as clever.
12.
Are we so different then from Thee
in our tragic earthy way?
Are all our thoughtless cruel deeds
more brutal than Thy clay?
