And Thou Shalt Love

There! Do you see the light
High on that mountain?
Even here there is
Light! Do you see it?
Only darkness. You see
Reflections of dreams. Here
Darkness covers even
Tomorrow. Who can
Hope any longer for light?
Yet there it is! We must
Go towards it, or else--
Or be of those who love
Darkness, luminous darkness . . .

Bees Swarm Along the Fragile Edge of Darkness
Bees swarm along the fragile edge of darkness.
Open wounds attract blood-hungry flies.
Near my heart lie savage little souls
Neatly arrayed to feast upon my life.
In eight days God will be through with miracles.
Even so, life is a gift of love.
So how does one enjoy this gift of love,
Even as one moves from light to darkness?
There is no moment free of miracles,
However swift and deep one's passion flies.
Glory is the dancing quark of life,
Alight with love and lust in all our souls.
Born of the cataclysm, our burgeoning souls
Race towards infinity, love
Infinite, lust infinite, life
Eternal as light billowing into darkness.
Little do we see how far it flies
As we spin through Earth-bound miracles.
Nor can we comprehend these miracles.
Darkness is the center of our souls,
Like still black water in the moonlight. Love
Is of this emptiness; unburdened, it flies
Swiftly in widening circles, skimming the darkness,
A motion outward at the heart of life.
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I Still Miss Her

It seems like only yesterday
I sent a Mother’s Day card away.
I didn’t think it would be the last,
I signed it with love and mailed it fast.
Now that she has gone away,
It doesn’t feel like Mother’s Day.
There are no more chances to send a card,
To ship some flowers, to make a call.
There’s no more thanking her for all she’s done.
No more visits,
No more fun.
I cannot hug her or kiss her cheek.
I cannot even share a laugh.
It all too quickly became the past.
I took each visit with her for granted.
I thought there’d always be more to come.
The camera lies still now
From her use and mine.
All the pictures have been taken,
All the memories have been made.
All the words have been spoken,
All the letters have been mailed.
The thing I miss the most of all
Has got to be her voice
Whether on the telephone or talking face to face.
I’d wish for one more conversation either here or at her place.
I know I’ll see her again some day,
We’ll share the sights of heaven.
We’ll talk, we’ll laugh, we’ll hug,
We’ll kiss….it’ll be Mother’s Day once more.
But until then I’ll be a mom for Mother’s Day instead of
Being a daughter.
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