Curtains raised upon this stage
lifted shadows, one new day.
Encores played, familiar piece
kindred players, different key.
Life’s gavotte a gleeful tune
every third beat ends all too soon…
within the confines
of her tendrils
Cocooned by the veins
of an image of that which
she was meant to be…
Like a dove in the cleft of rocks
suffocated with a slumber
assuaged by silence
beneath the breath
of crescent glow.
Catch her. Save her. Treasure her,
you whom her soul desires
and let her be freed.
Immortalized within counterfeit fibers of a
petrified forest are your sorrows, weighed with silt,
swallowed by shadows of its own valley,
silenced beneath the porcelain surface of a visage pristine.
Banish them. Let your tears cathartic burn these cheeks of mine.
Scour them with scars of an ancient past, of an ache relived.
Let me bear the dusk until from the womb,
emerged pure as the morning dew, is our love renewed.
You already knew. Gaze unflinching, you told us to say the words.
Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. A. L. S.
Despite sparse questions, your eyes revealed an understanding
far deeper than our answers-
that with one moment, robbed were you of the years ahead,
of memories awaiting, of stories belonging to you. Now lost.
Strength dissolving, your conviction remains unscathed.
You savor each passing sunrise. Each caress, each step. For you know…
Fragments of moons past
sketch silhouettes of a scenery divine.
A daytime reverie. Fond memory.
A granddaughter missing you.
Do you recall, grandma?
Long ago, a grandbaby born into an era of bitter lack,
that enriched by your presence, comforting embrace,
renewed to an age of precious worth?…
His heart unveiled before me,
descended from fields above,
let him free me with eternal songs
and constrain me with his love.
Lilacs amidst the autumn green,
like lilies among the thorns,
let him hold me up in blossom tides
in whose haven I am reborn…
How do I know the pill won’t seem
bitter to your tongue through your teeth?
How do I wear a once white coat
stained with tears of memories?
How do I compel my pen to write
scripts to fight a dimming light?
How do I know which waters will flow
to unearth the strength within me?…
Frosted stars proclaimed by breeze,
a dance of farewell before their queen.
Revealed by moon’s glow in misted eyes,
a wish reflected. A longing…seeking…to be found.
Thread of secrets, thrum of time,
silvered braids upon wounded soul.
A queen before her horizon heeds the echoed
promise of a rising sun. She smiles.
A bustling hospital.
An unexpected arrival.
A frigid Christmas eve.
I was saying goodbye to another patient when fate collided us.
“I’m sorry, father. You can no longer live with us.
But here is a nice doctor who will find you a home.
Merry Christmas, dad…”
Snowflakes. Fading upon blushed flesh,
its rivulets a frame sketched for the captive soul.
Gaze glimmering, hope dissolving, an echo to the void
of twilight’s end. She longs to be released.
A breath divine. An oasis to a threadbare wish
sculpts bittersweetness into frosted air.
Embraced by light, she follows
the seraph’s call…and is freed.
“…You are a doctor to many,
but an angel you have been to me
who encouraged, cared, and healed my pain,
and a light you made me see.
I am sad that you are no longer my doc
but am glad that you are my friend.
And I hope we can keep in touch
until the very end…”