Time As A Journey

All this time
my love for you
has been my anvil
my heart
a pounding hammer

Here take this thing
this shiny silver thing
this fragment of poetry
and if you can
hold it to your heart
in the times when you are sad

I wait here
in this place called the past
until you grow tired of this Time thing
and cast it off as a silly notion

When I liked to swim after dark

I turn around in an empty room
and face the window
The window where the sun is setting
Your dark blue eyes deeper and darker
than the sky now rich with stars
Add to the lines in my hand
Rippling the lake in the distance

I have this picture of you
folded in my billfold
Cracked
broken
shattered
Old photos are so . .
fragile

There was a time
When I liked to swim after dark
Now there is something luminescent in the waters
Somewhere below the silvery surface of consciousness
Leviathans stir the deep waters
The movement of their mass
ripples and breaks the sky into a mosaic of
life moments and memories

And the cicadas whirred

I was opening my hand in darkness
Opening and closing my hand
Thinking about all the things we did
Things we thought about
things we’d never do
And the cicadas whirred . . .

After dinner we broke out the recliners
In the dimming light, tiny rivers of lightning
coursed the belly of the clouds
snaking toward the setting sun
Forking like the veins and arteries
the roots of my heart

I felt your hand on my heart
your smile was not pretty

And the cicadas whirred . . .

I stood as a tree

Dropping . . .
Falling . . .
Somewhere below the quicksilver
surface of consciousness
Leviathans stir the oceanic waters
of the sleeping mind

The movement of their mass
ripples the tenuous film of awareness
And fragments the sea
into a mosaic of swaying reflected images

Shadow soft healing touches
on my face
Water droplets
on fresh green leaves

Gentle caresses
Velvet whispers
the breeze across the waters

I stood as a tree
on the mountain side
Seeking only
the sun’s golden glow
Drinking light
through silvered leaves
Drinking water
through a thousand hidden roots
Moving only
to dance with the Wind

Glacial
Geologic
Everlasting

Speaking Hope where there is no Light

The Magician moved
His hands a blur

He twisted Light out of Darkness
Conjured songs out of memories
songs filled words dark and true
and she sang

Songs of the function of Fire
the function of Rhyme
Speaking Love’s resilience
despite betrayal and spite

She sang
of the human spirit surfacing
from depths deeper than faith
where leviathans swim

Sang
of Order from Chaos
Life arising from the breast of Death

Speaking Hope where there is no Light
Miraculous deeds worthy of gods in times like these
New discoveries that lift the definition of human
like those of song and fire

The Ego of the Id~The Isti of the Anma

And so I’m thinking to myself
Evil huh?
What is Evil?
Or for that matter what is
Good?
Like Time they slip through
The fingers of my mind
slippery things

I knew Evil
the first time I was slapped
And laughed at
I knew evil that January
When I was doubled up in the Emergency room
wondering if I was going to die
And I knew Evil when they told me
my niece was to have a titanium rod
fused with her spine to keep her back
from growing into a question mark
And the question?
How can something like this happen?

I knew Good
The first time my mother looked through the rails of my crib
And smiled
(Yes, I can remember and you can too if you try)
The first time I solved a calculus problem and knew what I was doing
And I knew Good every time a friend has looked at me covered in grime
and said “Thanks Bill.” Or lifted their head
Grabbed me to hug in that way that friends hug
And the question is
why can’t it always be like this?

I remember
the Autumn air
The sure and certain sound of Heaven
Clear crisp and bright
And I stood there crying because there was nothing else I could do

And I realize
There is something in everything
Something under everything
And yes
I have known Evil
And I have known Good
As you have
As you will
And no Day
No matter how Dark
Bright
Or indifferent
Is without . . .
something
There is wonder in the moment
any moment
If you listen
Be still in this moment
Let that chill creep up your spine
For in it you know you are alive
in this moment
It is the scream if every thing
Both living and dead
It is the terrible/beautiful sound
Of the mystic green engine
That drives inert matter into this dance we call Life
And it is
in every part
Worthy of your voice
So go ahead and howl
Let it out
And you’ll let it in
And in the silence that follows
If you quiver just a bit
Then whisper your thanks
You are Alive