When I invite you
to listen to
the flash of brilliance
and the crash of thunder
from my words,
I do not ask
for edits,
or opinion,
or help.
I simply
invite you to join me,
standing on the dock,
watching the storm approach
and roll
and form.
I ask you to dance
on the wind with me,
no matter what
your movements may be,
no matter what
my jam may look like.
But please don’t tell me
to do a Demi plié
when I want
to play air guitar.
As we so often/
called him, now please do in your/
time of need: Call us!
I saw her on the
Corner. I helped, so I’d not /
lose my religion.
OR
That’s she on the corner.
How can I not help?
Otherwise, I’m losing my religion.
But I can’t keep
her
alive,
’cause I don’t know how to do it.
Oh no, I’ve said to much,
I haven’t done enough.
We all stand at the brink/
Of new horizons, and think/
Of what we can’t do,/
And fear, instead of soldiering through./
We feel like we’re all alone
far from the familiar surroundings of home.
But there are others who’ve walked this path,
who wait and hope and want to be asked.
And when we look, we’ll find/
those Guides wise and kind,/
Who’ll lead us past terror’s door,/
For they’ve passed this way before./
Our new friends can help us go the distance
if we have courage to seek their assistance
If she were driving/
late and needed me to keep/
her awake, I would.
A friend inadvertently spoke/created a poem for her grandkids. (You can read it here.) That typical “not knowing”, on Mother’s Day, inspired this piece. Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers who, like her, don’t know.
Like a typical mother,
She’d influenced lives
(she didn’t know);
She’d spread joy
(she didn’t know);
She’d written poetic words of wisdom
(she didn’t know);
She’d taught self-esteem and
charity-pure love and
happiness
(she didn’t know).
She’d nourished,
and comforted,
and guided,
and protected,
and grown,
and fostered,
and healed,
and helped,
and blessed
(she didn’t know).
Like mothers everywhere
and in every time,
she didn’t know
what she’d done,
and what she was doing,
still.
And people would look
at what she did,
and exclaim:
“How could she not know?!?”
The answer is simple:
Mothers don’t need to know.
They just do.
And she still won’t know
unless
you tell her.
I’m tired of trying/
to help people. When I do/
I seem to mess up.
Why do I expect/
others to help? She is my/
girl. I can take charge.
We ask so often:/
“What would you like?” we forget/
to fill our own needs.
OR
She so often asks:/
“What would you like?”, she forgets/
to fill her own needs.