Missing Nothing

I made room

Expanded

Fit love into sun filled mornings

Woodland walks

Midnight songs

Moonlit rambles

Between times so full

I never stopped

No need to stop

No lack therein

Nothing missing

Like water carving out the rock

Like earthquakes opening the ground

Like giving away things no longer used

I made room

Now I am open and not full

Of the light that used to shine

I turn under the silver moon

Slowly under a slivered shard

Of what had been robust and

Bright

To myself I am returned

Missing nothing

But that song

That shimmering glow

Just salty rivers running muddy

From these eyes down to the sea

I walk these sandy shores again

Under the stars

Just me

northern lights over mountain and forest
Photo by Mohan Reddy on Pexels.com

Keep Warm

There is the cold void of space

Expanding through your heart

Temperatures dropping

Daily

Every slight, every ding, every pain

We numb and withdraw

Our sap dropping from limbs to root

Our leaves fall beautiful

Into piles of decay

How to continue

Why go on

When it hurts

Grief overtaking

And spring is so far away

Don’t stay there in the heart of winter

Rest and repair and rise again

Capture each ray of sunshine

Be soothed by the songs of the birds

Revel in the blue, blue sky

Wrap the grey clouds around you

Sprout

Grow

Fly

The heart of summer is always within you

A blooming meadow

Paradise of butterflies and bumblebees

Keep warm

With the kind word of a friend

Laughter

A good book

Keep warm deep into the restless night

Keep warm kindled sparks in reserve

Until you become the star

Whoa to the Woes

If we could just put a stop

To the breaking of hearts

The losses and pains that crush us

If we could bundle our hurts

And toss them away

What would we say then of love

That it would leave us untouched

Then it’d be no longer love

Anymore

We’d suffer the lack of compassion

And communion

There’d be no common ground to renew

If our loss left us the same as we

Were when we’d gained

It’d be no loss at all

Nor would there have been gain

Let love affect me

Let loss rearrange me

Let grief and my loves bring me pain

Let me grow larger in heart to make room

For new loves and new gain

And space for the loss to exist

Let these shadows add depth

And let meaning unfold

Let me risk this sweet heart

Once again

Lyrics to Patchwork Blue Songs are Now Posted

Patchwork Blue has been variously described as a smoldering fire (I am assured this is a good thing), Avant Garde, Soundtrack music, and as defying expectations (some people liked this, and some did not).

This collaborative album I did with my friend, Rosalie, was born out of free form improvisation with jazz and Blues influences. The album is out on major digital markets. There are 10 songs on the album, 2 are instrumentals.

We had a request for the lyrics, and so I’ve posted them, and thought you-all might like to read them. 🙂

Survival is a form of Improvisation.

Also, I posted this new work on SoundCloud. It’s a sad, gloomy, and makes you wonder why I’m still breathing kind of song, but it captures that moment when I quite seriously felt that my existence here is just plodding on to the end, because what else am I going to do? Some losses can feel like that…but that feeling lifts eventually, maybe showing up in waves, each time a little less severe, a little less sad, a little less lonely. And if you’ve lost someone, and grieve so deeply, I’m sorry.

Grief is a difficult companion, but no one walks without it unless they cannot love. So, you loved well, and will heal in time, building the strength to carry it.

I took this song off of SoundCloud to rework it. So this is a dead link:

Buried Alive

There’s a moment of desperation

When it all goes awry

A breakneck pace of events

Wondering

Will you live or

Will you die

Inevitable

Of course

A chance encounter

Might brush one off the path

Without warning

And yet

That stark clarity

Ultraviolet black light

Superimposition

Wreath while waiting in between diagnostic tests

Adrenaline rush

Of an intruder within

One’s own body

Sacred

Terms of terror

Biopsy

Will you live or die

Heads or tails

And how does one prepare

To say those

Words to family and friends:

“I’ve been caught out with a fatal condition

(LIFE)

with no cure and no hope but for a painless end.”

~ diagnosed to die
Waiting with a wall quilt

And to feel like I’ve

Let them down

And failed somehow

To survive another chapter and that

The writer of my life

Has no mercy

Is killing the character

I had loved to hate and

Hated to love

The character I learned to

Cherish and value

And yet here we were

We were buying burial plots

And stitching a shroud

Of memories for the end

Images were taken of

My insides inside out

Technicians tears and mine

Were mingled in the doubt

This year spent shielded

From the virus

Only to be vaccinated

And find death sneaking

In a back door left

Unguarded

In the waiting room. It would be good news, but we didn’t know that yet

How death cheated I supposed

How apropos I figured

Because again I felt

That precious wonder in

Each breath

I want to live

I want to live

And all those images

Would say that

There’s a small suspicious spot

It’s early

No matter if the worst

Case comes to pass

You’ve got this and it

Feels just like

A second chance

Life is short, and we never know, really, how short it will be

My good friend went with me to the urgent care, and to the stat diagnostic appointment the next morning. The period between the initial visit and the test results were fraught with tension, grief, preparation, and panic. The nurse, doctors, technicians were all compassionate, caring, and made this process less isolating than it could have been. A later appointment with the surgeon confirmed a probable positive prognosis. There still may be a significant journey ahead, but my chances are good, and I am grateful for that.

In addition to that, I am making some big life changes – in the middle of moving back to a place a used to live. I’m shedding all of my possessions but what fits into two car loads. The rest I have been, and am still, giving away. What I bring back into my life will be carefully evaluated for usefulness and beauty and character.