The turtle and the dove

“You’re pretty,” said the turtle

to the dove. “Thanks,” said the dove

to the turtle, “but I’m nothing

compared to the peacock.”

“Well, I’ve known many a peacock and

I think you’re much more beautiful.”

“Still I’d rather be a peacock,” said the dove

to the turtle. And I’d rather be a dove,

thought the turtle

as he watched the dove take wing.

So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I spent a good portion of last night, mooring with the tide, tied to emotions, most of which surely weren’t mine to suffer, though, like a good little buoy I did all I could to stay afloat.

But what causes a man to harbor such feelings of faithless dread.

Sympathy? Empathy? Selfless, selfishness?

Isn’t it funny how even when no one asks us to suffer, we often choose to suffer.

Could it stem from guilt? Plausible, though I think not. Depression? No, because I could still move. Trauma? Not in this case, as it had nothing to personally do with me.

Perhaps than maybe deeper, beyond the physical self, far from age or reason, like roots grown deep within the soil, always there yet invisible to the naked eye.

So then what?

Let’s take the current state of society in which the mind is placed.

We are and always have been reactionary beings, jumping to conclusions without fully taking the time and energy to understand or explore where these irrational compulsions come from.

So the year is 2020 and we are still at one another’s throats.

Not a day goes by that I don’t get a phone call whether or not I am willing to vote. Not a day goes by that I don’t see one side of the argument ready and willing to cut the other’s throat. Not a day goes by where I don’t get the impression that peace is just dependent on war, like an inside joke I just don’t get the humor.

So it’s within this grey area that I swim where both sides of the equation continue to expel these deep seeded emotions from within.

Had it not been for the open minded, tirelessly educated guidance and good nature of a mother, I may have gone another way years ago, though still I stay afloat while the undertow continues its torment.

So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I know who I am. And I know my intentions are good. Sometimes our actions speak louder than words but for most of us, words just don’t seem to be heard.

But that’s no reason to destroy what you can’t control.

So for those who cannot express or explain this current state of extremes we face both alone and together, I suggest this: be a beacon of hope.

Because what we know today, with or without our help, will surely change tomorrow.

So even in my darkest hours, I know, hope will never falter, light will find a way, and tides will turn, if not now, then surely another day.

Alone and writing.

His laughter echos out of mine

His laughter echos out of mine

for which I hear each conscious time

I start to somehow forget him.

And like a long lost tale of old

I hold my breath and accept him.

It’s there he says—my mothers eyes—

to live and love more gently.

My son it’s up to you this time

his laughter echos out of mine

and there we build new memories.

His final farewell

I recall the calm

as I recall the storm.

Lead foot hesitation,

the slamming of doors.

Endangered are many

who’ve less stayed for more.

Excuses are fatal,

not ours anymore.

See I recall quiet

death and coffin smell,

his mustache, beard shaven

estranged from the crowd.

Was I the unwelcome?

The burden? Expelled?

His name once my keeper

I’ve written it well.

Yes I recall freedom

wished upon a star,

a second floor window

alone in the dark.

The price no one bargained

unimaginably hard,

his soul like a raven

still blackens my heart.

A kid and a coffin

for now I recall,

the parlor room floor

dead silence in awe.

While tears spill to carpet

and jittering jaw,

echoed through the parlor

with no sign of God.

I recall the calm

the storm never ends,

it grows like a Cancer

bad thoughts fill my head.

His final farewell

is my cross to bear,

how no son of mine

shall feel such fear.