Control
Control is but a fleeting illusion
Fostered by a selfish pride
Nurtured by presumptive greed
Achieved, for now, in measures small.
What matters is beyond such grasp
Beyond our self–concerned persuasion
Beyond defenses we create
Beyond our will to conquer all.
Life is forfeit from inception.
Friends, siblings and parents pass,
Outside our reach, outside our grasp,
In ways and times by us not chosen.
Each grasp lets go,
Each wall will crumble,
Each order ends,
Each conceit will fail.
What is there beyond control,
To make a life that can be lived?
An answer is not self–concerned.
An answer lies outside of pride.
Seize the day to give away
The talents to which you are given,
The time, which will but slip away,
The things of value you have stored.
Control is something that is not
What you can give or take.
But giving of what you possess
Can be achieved in measures great.
What matters are the lives we touch,
Beyond our cherished self–concern,
Beyond defenses we create,
As measured by a will to serve.
From each according to their treasure,
To each according to their need.
Persuade for others, not for self.
Be at peace for what you give.
Live a life beyond control
Amidst those things that really matter
Meet each challenge just by giving
Find what control can give you not.
Farewell Bethie!
A thunderclap announced her peril
And prompted a scramble to be at her side.
By journey’s end I was too late,
God had just taken my sister for Himself.
My tears were hard and plentiful.
Her end had come so fast!
Memories are all that remain
To wash away my awful pain.
Her smile, her smile, her beautiful smile
Is for me a lasting gift.
Yet many more than just sad me
Were touched by her great smile.
The throngs of them who shared our grief
And told the joys of Beth,
Made me so much more aware
Of beauty she’d lent our world.
Her passion found its outlet
With her husband, sons and friends.
Community and workplace had found
A friend who’d offer of herself.
Her gentleness was so well known
That many stray cats did follow her home!
She loved them dear throughout her life
So much so I’ve loved them too.
Beth longed to be with family
Mom and dad and siblings too.
But she cast her net of family
Beyond just these close few.
Here mothering was legend
In college theatre halls.
And even cops dropped tickets
Cause she knew them one and all.
These memories are sweeter legacy
Than her so swift demise.
Though nothing can replace my loss
Such memories will triumph o’er my pain.
Violence and Coercion
Violence or coercion, is it ever right?
How about when fending off a predator’s spite?
How about when your life is your right?
Is the response different for, say, police?
Or for a brave soldier sworn to the flag?
Is there a difference to make any sense?
Cops enforce rules on which we’re agreed.
Soldiers enforce what is their country’s creed.
Is either a basis to make death the deed?
Do rights form the basis to justify a kill?
What of consequences for actions not taken?
Genocide mocks choosing non–confrontation.
The ancients knew of the problems of killing.
A purifying rite prepared a soldier’s returning,
Before re–communing with kith or with kin.
Thou shalt not kill is a rule quite common,
From culture to culture we seem to agree on
… even as we deign to tolerate exception.
Our tolerance is about a poison accepted.
A sanctioned reception of end–justified means,
That leaves its traces among those who remain.
Beware such exception and all of its traces
That only await chance to reconcentrate
In hostile virulence–quite unintended.
Aftermath of Terror
A message delivered by zealots
Burned searing images
Into collective consciousness...
A year has come and gone.
Fear and anger and patriotism arose
As response to so great a wrong.
They did it to us, let's do it to them!
Flags waved in defiant assent.
Many asked why.
Few wanted to know.
Their martyrs' blood
Is anathema to us.
Terror is wrong,
But reasons it has,
Which resonate strong
In its believers' hearts.
We do not share their sensibility
Of pollution nor of purity.
It drives them to extremity.
We do not share their sense.
Until we care about their sense,
Intolerance nurtured by family tears
Shall be the final resting place
new martyrs and their victims share.
We need not agree, but we must understand,
Why they feel themselves so aggrieved.
Of that driving sense, we must take account,
If ever we are to find peace.
Violence or coercion, is it ever right?
The answer, if any, seems to depend
But answering yes will not make them end.
Inauguration
I heard him when that time was new
as stirring words he spoke.
He grasped the torch of leadership
for a generation new.
For us, I thought,
the time has come
to form a world anew.
And only now I realize
my time was yet to come.
I stand amidst assembled throngs
as reins are passed again.
But on this time the one who speaks
is aged the same as me.
His words are brave and promise filled.
He speaks of sacrifice.
He leads a change whose time is now.
With him I'll take the chance.
Starry eyed? Not anymore.
Experience has taught me.
But there is somone special here
who touches dreams of mine.
Like others I could wait and see
and squander chance for change.
But no, I choose the path again
of changing from within.
I choose to hope
and work for change
to share his dream and mine.
To earn a legacy of good
from works and luck and dare.
Our Anniversary
Remember when so far away
was all of fifteen miles,
and we did argue pro and con
the distance of Brownstown?
And how about the times we weighed
the merits of far climes?
When frozen north and deserts far
presaged our journey to Marquette.
So now we've angled south and east
and landed once again,
farther now than e're before
from that fair place we met.
And through it all I've learned of you
things I knew not before.
From place to place we too have changed
but far more than locale.
Our radius of love has grown
beyond just me and you,
and depths of feeling once unknown
are part of who we are.
I didn't know how far we'd come
nor can I guess our journey's end.
I only know in retrospect
how worthwhile it has been.
I loved you then.
I love you now.
Let's celebrate our day!
Talking with Dad
Talking. I do it every day.
Talking. It's how I earn my pay.
Talking. The words I've thrown away!
Talking. I wish I could do it with dad today.
So many things for me to say.
Why is it hard with him?
I've told him that I love him,
but those words are not enough.
He's changed and yet he hasn't,
over all this passing time.
Things are always well with him,
. . . or so he always says.
Yet what I see from where I look
seems terribly amiss.
And on these very things, with him,
– it's hard to talk of this.
Of what he taught and valued
I know so very well,
since I've struggled to live by it
as I've made a life for me.
But life has surely changed for him
since I've flown on my own.
And things which I thought values fixed
seem not so firm for him.
I do not want to judge him,
but it leaves me much confused,
to know the things he taught me
and how his life seems now.
I want to talk about it
to share my thoughts with him
but every chance I get to talk
I seem to chicken out.
How do I go about it,
this task from which I've shied?
I need to find a time and place
to talk of this with dad.
The Good News
(by Thich Nat Hanh)
The good news
they do not print.
The good news
we do print.
We have a special edition every moment,
and we need you to read it.
The good news is that you are alive,
that the linden tree is still there,
standing firm in the harsh winter.
The good news is that you have wonderful eyes
to touch the blue sky.
The good news is that your child is there before you,
and your arms are available: hugging is possible.
They only print what is wrong.
Look at each of our special editions.
We always offer the things that are not wrong.
We want you to benefit from them
and help protect them.
The dandelion is there by the sidewalk,
smiling its wondrous smile,
singing the song of eternity.
Listen! You have ears that can hear it.
Bow your head.
Listen to it.
Leave behind the world of sorrow,
of preoccupation,
and get free.
The latest good news
is that you can do it.
Why?
When stubborn am I
rage seethes within
my thoughts are boxed
good sense does flee.
Passion ignites action without thought.
Seclude myself, sulk for a day.
Rationalize it! Pretend it away!
Wonder why and apologize again.
Tis my dark side.
The one I must hide.
The one I abhor.
Tis not usually me.
Why must they,
who love me dear,
have this shade
cause them a tear?
It isn't right but so it's been.
How can I cast it out from me?
Ponder again what it is:
irrational passion, which does me in.
Away this bane!
Be done with it!
Banish it!
Damn it!
Interdict it too!
It hangs on within
to poison a day
to waste a moment
to spoil my way.
I've failed once more
I'll go back again
and rue the stubbornness
I find in me.
Once Again
Again . . . once again
memory drifts, nay is drawn
An annual reverie
in circumspect review.
In the early dark of morning
a young woman cries
an apprehensive inquiry
a terse and sad reply.
A new reality became
but not without pain.
Snow sweeps by a window
grey skies pervade.
Time elapses
So long ago ...
the memory is older
than I was then.
Roots lie deep vitally obscure.
A memory is kept , no less real,
no less pained, quiet but intense.
There is wonderment at its strength
It drifts away ...
Of Issues So Great
An issue of moment!
Expectation's aroused!
Impatience abounds!
Action is called!
The issue is forced!
Violence flares!
Blood flows!
The moment is won!
A new order lives!
Widows cry, children cry,
for heroes blooded
by conflict for cause.
The new order's nurtured
by blood sacrifice.
Survivors are quoted,
"They died not in vain,
the issue was won
by their family's pain!"
But where lies the issue
of import so great
which ascends over life
so it must now be won?
A question yet begging
after all of man's time
to be given an answer
which justifies blood.
And look later on
at the reasons oft given:
"for god and for country
for freedom, for right!"
When passion subsides,
in the cold light of history,
the actions then taken
belie reasons given.
Revile not the heroes
whose blood drained away,
but those who give reasons
without merit real
which leads to the blooding
of heroes in their season.
A Prayer
Sabres rattle once again
which threaten all and each.
Leaders find themselves now cast
on hardened words they threw.
I voice a prayer to you my God.
Please answer it forthwith!
Grant them now the power to persuade,
a willingness to be convinced.
Help them find an option fair
which falls far short of war.
Grant to us peace in our day
and justice for us all.
THE WALL
A small dark point at first.
It really could be missed,
But walk on ...
There is silence here.
A growing list of names,
A fading flower or two,
Some tear stained notes,
The list grows on.
Someone touches the wall and cries,
Another rubs a hollow tracing,
– all that's really left –
The list engulfs you.
The names are everywhere,
They march in order taken from us.
The top cannot be touched,
from down here in the pit.
Going down was smooth.
Only a rocky road struggles up.
The names of those who were stretches on.
More flowers, notes, and tears.
The tide has finally turned,
The names are in decrescendo now.
There is no victory here.
It ends at last in a small dark point.
The wall is.
They were.
Allocate
Helpless, hopeless, tightening grip
Unfair! Unfair! scream all.
Be a man ... be a father
Be all things to all!
Where do decisions fall?
"Time, your time! I want your time."
Children, wives and bosses call.
Yet where shall I get the time?
Pressured here and pressured there
for allocation of time.
Is there a balance, is there a line,
So I can give to all?
The balance swings from here to there,
are the choices quite so clear?
The rewards the disasters resonate
in vibrant disarray.
Give me the power to calm the seas
to allocate the time.
Let me do justice to all who call.
How vain this dream of mine!
Serendipity
Serendipity is at play
in a coincidental way
when stars are seen
in a patterned array.
The view you see
is relative to us,
who perceive what we do
without reference to you.
So what we see is as true
as it isn't to you,
unless from your vicinity
we are blessed by serendipity.
Dawn
Twittering birds herald the news
of breaking day and night's swift flight.
The world again renews itself
in all its splendid glorious array.
Sun shafts gleam through verdant trees
which shade a dew borne life.
Hints of moisture twinkle then
as all the earth bears promise rare.
A magic touch between night and day
when peace bestirs itself.
A heart does throb in wild response
to all the stimuli.
A moment fair to memorize
which swiftly passes by.
Recalled now fondly, well and new
as when that time first was.
Why Not?
I think
I touch
I feel
I am
My mind, my heart and body all live!
There is much joy in this.
Things are well, in this my world,
and I thank God for that.
I sense a balance, from what I know,
and am in awe of it.
The ups and downs are terrible
and joyous in their mix.
There are the times I conquer all
and others when I quake.
Why is this my chosen fate?
Well why not? ... It's so.
Now I choose to celebrate
to hold the darkness back,
to revel in the things I know
and press on once again.
Life is good to me this day
as I review my world.
Thanks to parents and to God,
because of them I am!
Tomorrow
It is a time for thinking back
on what has gone before,
and wondering what all of that
will mean when it's no more.
Things and people and places too
have touched the me of now.
The you I knew at yesterday
is not the you of now.
My memory is hazy bits of vivid fine detail,
from which I cull the relevant with erring certitude,
to set the stage and my review
of all I'll say and do.
As I become more circumspect
and cognizant anew,
I realize the truth for me
is largely what I've done.
While truth for me is personal,
and relative to you,
I sense a shared reality
of one made out of two.
For in knowing you, the way I do,
your sense of me has grown.
And so the things that I have known
are now a past of you.
So when I wander back in time
to wonder once anew,
I find a part of my tomorrow
resides in me and you.
Changing
The tread has been both quick and slow
and led both up and down.
And I have learned of many things
as I persisted on.
Idealism has melted
into seasoned hard resolve,
while world saving panoramas
have narrowed to my sphere.
The path of hard persistence
was once my known preserve.
I've reaped of many triumphs
inherent in that course.
My moments now are rife with risk,
the chance of change is here!
Which course to take? The time is now.
Persist or make the chance?
I've thought this through, and more than once,
it's change I choose today.
I cast aside the well known path
and strike out on the new.
Where will it lead, this choice I make,
beyond the here of now?
The answer lies amid my mix
of persisting and of change.
A Birthday Gift
To you I gave my heart away
when both we two were young.
I pledged my heartfelt fealty
and you, you did the same.
And with our hearts we shared our love
and wrought our daughters three
to be the best of both of us
a part of you and me.
In that same felt spirit
I give consent today
to send forth our fair Karen
to school so far away.
To terms you named I so agree
For your sake and for hers.
I give this with a loving heart
to celebrate your birth!
Gratitude
Of what shall I be grateful today?
Perhaps the tender caress of my lover’s lips,
Or the sweet succulence of a tree ripened fruit.
Perchance it might be the melodious tune of the songbird,
Or the intoxicating fragrance of a floral bouquet.
Then again it could be the multi hued horizon of dawn that greeted me today.
But no, today I shall be grateful for simply being.
So that I might experience them all.
unClintonesque
Years have flown and I have grown
In mind and body too (sigh…)
This place of hopes has soured for me
It's not what it was hoped to be.
A tragedy of opportunity has played
Its tawdry lines of promise lost,
The man admired by me one day
Was not ready for his trust.
Trust in yourself,
prepare yourself
Your time has yet to come.
Learn the lesson of 'be prepared'
Lead once wisdom's gained.
Words
Symbols of thought – these little words
and slippery at that
A word when heard seems different
than when the same is viewed.
Artful words evoke the thing
that you may have in mind
only if you have taken care
to be the hearer too.
For words are heard in context
and shaded by that place,
and what is heard of little words
is shaped by more than you.
Art, not science, dictates
the impact of your words
for once they've flown
out on their own
there's an element of chance
which may make up more of what is heard
than what it was you thought.
So guage the wind and distance too
before you let words fly
and hope from there what you intend
stays with those little words.
Our Tempest
Rending pain now fills my heart
– the thought of losing you –
my love, my life, my beautiful
what shall I ever do?
For me the pain chokes in my throat
the words do not ring true
my ears have heard the fate filled words
my life – without you?
How shall I meet the endless days
without the joy of you?
Can life so quickly slip away
when promise is yet new?
Our life was filled with promise rare,
our days with living full,
from whence the energy to draw
for life without you?
The fates are kind a respite comes
a response to fervent prayer.
The blackened scythe of death withdraws
it will not strike this time.
The wild fear has passed for now,
my life is still askew.
Once again I plant some hope
but this time with a prayer.
Our bonds were stretched as sinews
over life's reversing loom.
The fabric of our life withstood
the wrenching and the strain.
Now is time for healing,
for laughter and new pain,
for reaching down to deep within,
and savoring our gain.
Share with me my new found joy
and touch my heart again.
Our life continues to grow on,
our story did not end!
January
This bitter month of ice and snow
chills my heart again.
In the afterglow of December
this wretched time comes forth.
Loneliness pervades my gloom
those close to me seem far.
Memories bestir themselves
to cut my soul anew.
Why again? Why again?
Why can I not be free?
This time, this wretched time
now casts its pall on me.
I long for happiness anew
to touch those close to me,
yet fate has spun its pallid weave
to veil my heartfelt wish.
This time will pass but it will leave
its mark upon my heart
and bitter, driving, chilling winds
will leave it frozen there.
I want what's not
I wish it now
I damn this wretched time!
Yet all in all I realize
that January's here.
Solitary Sharing
Twas more than half my life ago
when words were passed to me
that filled my eyes with teardrops
and my heart with misery.
And each year I remembered,
though I didn't always know it,
for the loss to me was greater
than I was willing to admit.
I'd told her things of who I was
and who I was to be.
Secrets I had never shared
with anyone but her.
It was a time for growing
for learning things anew,
and suddenly she left me
having never said goodbye.
I put that time behind me
I put it out of mind,
but each year I'd remember
and each year I'd be sad.
She left me something special,
her tenderness and caring,
and I'm obliged to live by that –
a thing I've tried to do.
It wasn't many years ago
I learned why I was sad
and then began to realize
the measure of my loss.
A loss for me and others too.
A loss we had not shared.
A pain we cared not think about
nor understand its source.
For on that day so long ago
when pain was first begat,
I took and hid it deep inside
and they did hide it too.
Only when new teardrops came
and I remembered why,
did others share their pain with me
that spanned our years of time.
Alone we shared this common loss
and bravely bore the pain.
How easier it would have been
had we but shared our grief.
Center Stage
Center stage, the dreams of youth
the glory and the praise
a yearning for attention drawn
a worship for the star.
Sword drawn riders, gallant knights,
a statesman holding forth,
home run hitters, touchdown joy
a glittering array!
When work and pain and setbacks come
the dream does surely fade,
when heroes stumble in our sight
sad tarnish does pervade.
A choice to make for each ex–youth,
as illusion slips away.
To take and make a private life,
or work toward center stage?
Brickbats wait for those who dare
to claim a role on stage.
It's sweat which glitters in the light
that's found at center stage.
Siren songs call out to those
who contemplate the dare.
For accolades come only if
the risk is taken up.
The sweetness of a taken bow,
the glory of applause,
never reach their zenith
but when earned by hard resolve.
Again
Transition shows itself again
but this is not by choice.
It dumped itself upon my lap
and sits there like a lump.
The last big one brought joy with it.
Of this one ... well we'll see.
Before control lay all with me,
but now events control.
The span of time between
has a richly varied mix
of learning and contributing,
of joy and pride and pain.
My family is in dispersion
my favored status dimmed.
The near term future is unclear.
What shall I make of this?
Anxious thoughts await me
in this time which is between
when routine is just cast aside
for things which may yet be.
The problems of transition
snarl heart and head alike
till one is simply ready
for transition to be through.
What Spells Relief?
Well, by golly
gee, and gosh
I've chosen change again.
Relief sets in
as what I've done
begins to settle in.
The letting go was hard enough
but now it's what I've done.
Yet given what I've got to do
Why am I so relieved?
Emotions are a separate thing
from good old common sense,
but darn they make you feel so good
perhaps it's good they are!
Purity
What is true?
What is right?
What is wrong?
What is stupid?
Values matter.
Values vary.
Values clash.
Values compete.
How to decide?
Which comes first?
Who may decide?
Who must decide?
Is first forever?
Or does it depend?
What shall guide us?
On what to depend?
Answers chosen
Affect us all.
Can we live with it?
And how about me?
Process matters greatly.
Compromise it must allow.
Compromise compels us
To value others too.
Only tolerance can rise
To this unending challenge.
Yet, since some poison lurks there,
Is tolerance OK?
WINNING
I'm a winner today!
It's nuts to feel that way.
There was the auto accident this morning.
From diverting traffic, my arms now ache.
From trying to fix my broken seat
I got tar upon my pants.
My head aches from stress and sinus.
and as well my throat hurts too.
But I bought Oreo cookies
from the vending machine today
It beeped, scrolled "you're a winner",
AND my money it gave back!
And now, somehow, I just feel that way!?!
Certitude?
I know damn well I'm right.
Just look right here.
It's plain as day
in black and white!
Really? I promptly counter,
completely self–assured.
What you think is wrong.
For I know it in my bones!
Opposites repel each other.
Where absolutes prevail.
They tear apart our caring,
And foil our understanding.
No source human is unfailing,
No science finding is yet final.
The past is but a guide unsure,
To present circumstance we find.
However can our collective we
find a shared way forward,
amidst these many shades of gray,
if absolutes prevail?
When, if ever, will we know
how to understand
what's right for me and you and you,
since absolutes are not?
All must cede what can't be known,
of that which is not sure for all.
All must recognize the wisdom found
amidst the lives from all around.
Only when found is caring,
for you and you and me,
can we be certain we have found
the answer to our query.
PRAYERS
Every day I must ask myself three questions:
1. Have I sinned in my thoughts and actions toward others?
2. Have I broken faith m any of my friendships?
3. Have I tried to teach anything to others I have not fully learned and understood myself?
(an examination of conscience by Zeng Shen)
May I have,
–Health enough to make work a pleasure
–Wealth enough to support my needs
–Strength to battle with difficulties and overcome them
–Grace enough to confess my sins and forsake them
–Patience enough to toil until some good is accomplished
–Charity enough to see some good in my neighbor
–Love enough to move me to be useful and helpful to others
–Faith enough to make real the things of God
–Hope enough to remove all anxious fears concerning the future
(by Goethe)