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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You Feel the Fortune of Your Years

You feel the fortune of your years,
I hope. For all your children's love
This day must bring you happy tears
And thoughts that joyful music prove.
I hope, for all your children's love,
There is an island, be it small,
And thoughts that joyful music prove
Beyond what years you may recall.
There is an island, be it small,
Amid the passions of the sea,
Beyond what years you may recall,
Where you in silent grace can be.
Amid the passions of the sea,
This day must bring you happy tears.
Where you in silent grace can be,
You feel the fortune of your years.
You Taught Me How to Love You
You taught me how to love you by
The way that you loved me;
And by your unseen sustenance,
To see what you could see.
You gave to me through who you were
The gift of what I am.
Your pride in me is now my pride;
Your faith, my caravan.
Your life does not conclude with death,
Nor will it end with mine,
For all the lives I touch, you touch,
And so on through all time.
You've Been Everything to Me
You've been everything to me: a father,
Teacher, playmate, model, conscience, friend.
Sometimes I'm not certain why you bother,
If your feelings on my words depend.
I know I haven't been the child I should:
Far from it, and I really can't say why.
I know exactly what I'd label good,
But in the real world something goes awry.
Underneath my actions there is love,
Gratitude, respect, and admiration.
Sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking of,
But I thank God you're in for the duration.
I'm sorry, sorry for the things I do,
But please believe I cherish Mom and you.
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This Mother's Day Without You Strains Belief

This Mother's Day without you strains belief
In life and love and what it means to be,
But there is beauty in my lonely grief.
Your death is like a wound without relief,
Pain on pain as far as I can see,
And so this day without you strains belief.
What's the point of living when a thief
Can break into your heart so easily?
But there is beauty in my lonely grief.
You fell away from me, a withered leaf
Twisting down to darkness, leaving me
This day without you, chilling my belief.
And yet there's beauty in this burning brief
Bright burst of light that ends in agony,
Beauty in the cause of lonely grief,
The love I have for you, a jewel-like reef
In silent prayer beneath my empty sea.
This Mother's Day without you strains belief,
But there is beauty in my lonely grief.
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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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