Hard Surrender

An armor of worry suits this knight-at-arms,

protected from all assaults from outside.

Muted to the potent power of charm,

his stoic stance simply a place to hide.

Hands of mail, fine for striking but stifling touch.

Thick over the heart, hollow under hard steel,

to odd comfort of old pain he will clutch.

On constant alert, he thinks but won't feel.

Here and not here, he stands always alone.

We all fight, all struggle—of that, be assured.

Our forsaken vigils for endless unknowns.

Raise the visor, unshield the eyes, drop the sword.

Opened just so, he would breathe and speak light

to all, the hard surrender after the easy fight.

Damaged Muse

When evening light will reach and fall just so,

and animated shapes emerge from lines,

with the darting brush's quick, sure flow,

and the artist briefly stops the rush of time,

your incandescent waves of falling hair,

a face that's so possessed of dark and light,

a complexion held in stillness fair,

is captured, held complete—not quite.

The broken smile still has the will to charm.

I give this haunted art what it demands.

It holds me, too, for now I'm free from harm.

This oddly frozen hour--cold paper in my hands.

How I have come to learn the artifice in art--

True seeing comes not from eyes, but heart.

The Rider Up The Road

Tomorrow is a speeding rider up the road.

My slight gain, a slip back--I can't reel him in,

hovering, rocking, shimmering in the cold.

No number, no race, nothing clear to win.

What may I see around the beckoning curve?

No matter my speed, I will face it alone.

Will it steel me, spur me, or unhinge my nerve?

Feeling much, only seeing what is shown.

We all ride, trapped in our bubbles of time.

Yet in any moment, who can say “it's mine”?

I will be that rider, as I was the one behind.

You and I are alike, not in time but in kind.

Chasing that next fleeting rider up the road

into another evening's quickly fading glow.

The Measure of a Day

Tell me, what is the measure of a day?

A hand's sweep, lines through a list?

When darkness comes, what will stay?

Open, welcoming hands or clenched fists?

Tired arms at ease, unladen but sure

remembering the weight of morning labor?

a calling out, a yearning, a thirst for more,

dwindling minutes, shrinking light to savor?

Free me, for now, from the tyranny of time

and things set aside, work left undone.

Roads unexplored, mountains unclimbed

will surely wait for another day's sun.

Breathe, as still water mirrors the dark sky

and a doubled moon fills my grateful eyes.

The Healing Dark

Sunblinded, sideways stumbling
my internal balance gone
others at ease--I’m fumbling
on a harsh green steamy lawn
too much exposure noise and light
what I want--need--is to withdraw
summer freedom not sitting right
I burn fast, my nerves gone raw
so I turn in to the healing dark
one sense denied, the others awake
a deep rhythm, a singer hits the mark
the cool air’s touch I take
this darkness on the brightest day
for a time to carry me away

Rise

Free me from my tired refrains:
Not good enough, will never be
as I sing it again, love in vain,
looking for years, unable to see.

Balance what I feel and what I know,
like the cycling moon, light and dark.
It takes effort to keep doors closed--
is that better than a shot off its mark?

Anything lived is never really gone.
Find words to forgive, but not forget.
Lines in my heart run on and on,
and tomorrow and I have not met.

Words, imprecise, always taste of surprise.
With the winding road, may I also rise.

Teach

Spend a day with us in a crowded, hot room:
Read the roster, have a plan, pick up the book.
Tell me then that the 2:35 bell comes too soon.
They're all here: leaders, dreamers and crooks.

Society's motley progeny arrives at our door.
Country's falling behind, we've heard for years.
Give all, but be prepared when asked for more.
Still, success outweighs failure, to be clear.

I cringe, look away, when I hear kids these days--
we were all there, wandering in some hazy past,
finding our way through an adolescent maze.
Remember time's river, flowing deep and fast.

Do not ever let a shaky grasp limit reach.
Know that those who can, will always teach.