Free Me

Free me from worry, that familiar pain,

a well-traveled trail, lost and found.

Show me what my heart can contain.

Get me out of the canyon before the rain.

Show me the way to the high ground,

free me from worry, that reaching pain.

Lead me away from losses and gains--

not all victories will bring renown.

Show me what my heart can contain.

Let my breath be a simple refrain

as I climb higher, with a brief look down.

Free me from worry, that following pain.

Not everything demands to be explained--

mountains move without a sound.

Show me what my heart may contain.

Safe now, walking the high, calm plain,

a brilliant moon hangs low and round.

You transform my worry, that capricious pain,

and show me what my heart always contains.

Complete

The eyes that see, the hearts that beat--

How will blood answer the mind's command?

The dark and the light are what make us complete.

Every virtue an advance, each sin a retreat,

street voices scrape, compel and demand

the eyes that see, the hearts that beat.

The dictator was once a baby, so sweet--

Evil in us, like cancer, shrinks or expands,

fills with the dark and the light, makes us complete.

The angel is tempered by anger's strong heat.

What will you censor, what should be banned?

The eyes that see, the hearts that beat?

The conscience that guides, the urges that eat--

Stay hungry, search on—how much can you stand?

The dark and the light are what make us complete.

That baffling place, where reason and desire meet--

Will you fling a fist or offer an open hand

to the eyes that see, the hearts that beat,

in the dark and the light which make us complete?

Water Over Rock

Look away from the relentless clock.
Change is not always something seen.
Give me the patience of water over rock.

Tense already, as I wake with a shock--
Am I running too rich or too lean?
Look away from the cruel, mocking clock.

How to carve myself out of this stifling block?
Michelangelo's angel was there, unseen.
Give me the patience of water over rock.

What will summon inspiration's knock?
I climb a green hill to see where I've been,
and turn away from the indifferent clock.

In a small boat freed from the dock,
I think of waves, and lulls in between.
Give me the patience of water over rock.

Soon, words become keys to the locks:
my habits, faults, allegiance to routine,
tied to the unfeeling, cold clock.
Give me the patience of water shaping rock.

Long Division

We touch, we embrace, the hour late.
A simple equation: your hands plus mine.
Long division, remainder great.

Bewildered by the energy we create,
our arms around what, we can’t define.
We touch, we embrace, the hour late.

Missing pieces seek out mates.
Will we be more than parallel lines?
Long division, remainder great.

Too worn and weary to calculate.
Want to get past what is and isn’t mine.
We touch, we embrace, the hour late.

But ours is not a mathematical fate.
Our halting pace can still feel divine.
Long division, remainder great.

Your head in my lap, that welcome weight.
Hold me as my eyes start to shine.
We touch, we embrace, the hour late.
Long division, remainder great.