The other side

All that I want now

is to see what’s just beyond

the other side

of that golden mountain range,

because I’m done with alleyways

and there’s nothing left behind.

Be the air of peace we’re all capable of breathing.

I recently came across a post stating, “this is a bad year.”

Though I don’t disagree that bad things have happened this year, I can’t fully commit to such a bold statement as the entire year being bad.

Or perhaps, I’m just looking at it from a more critical standpoint?

A protest for example, is a collaborative effort between cultures standing together for justice.

The police force has made efforts, though not always headline news, to reinforce their code of conduct: to protect and serve.

Most citizens are respecting the rights of others, choosing to wear masks, in the fight against COVID-19.

The government is making attempts to sustain our American way of life through relief programs and continued unemployment benefits—even though at times it may feel like not enough—granting enough security to survive.

I’ve seen a number of portable facilities spring up in mainly homeless areas of Los Angeles, which does not solve the issue, but certainly shows hope.

What I am getting at is even in our darkest times, there are signs of hope.

Hope which we can and should not disregard as a complete and utter bad year.

If anything, I’d say, there is an awakening taking place.

What I see from an observers eye is an awakening of people who, regardless of the hardships, struggle, and inability to make concrete sense of all the senseless acts that have been occurring, realize a need for change and progression forward as a human race.

We are all struggling, regardless of another’s grass, I repeat,

we are all struggling.

But with struggle comes realizations. And with realization comes understanding. And with understanding comes progress.

Through common ground and communication I know there is hope, for you, and I, and the suffering on all sides.

It struck me odd today when a friend told me they envy my ability to travel where in turn I assured them, not everything is as it may seem, and that I too am struggling, only I choose a different point in which to view my current state of awareness.

You don’t have to travel far to climb a mountain or swim in a lake, or wake to see the most beautiful sunrise, or even lend a hand to someone less fortunate, because these are natural and always there waiting for you to take action.

Rather than saying, “this year is a bad year,” I suggest taking a deeper look and the time to realize that progress is happening.

And though progress may seem difficult, remain hopeful, my friends.

Be honest with yourself and your loved ones.

Greet a stranger as he were your family, with arms stretched wide in abundance.

Be the light at the end of the tunnel, the light which shines even in our darkest of times.

Be the air of peace in which we’re all capable of breathing.

Be courageous. Be kind. And be hopeful.

Boat at

Colorado

on the road to nowhere fast

holy rock and stone flies pass

speeding sky dawn’s overcast

where mountain gulch

stream onward fast—we drive

on happy high of summers past

on the mountaintop

We spoke a lot out there about how different folks live their lives,

about the idea of success and what it really means to feel comfortable in circumstance,

about family and virtue,

giving back and taking more consciously.

We say the things up there

on the mountaintop,

which are hard to say among the crowds and noise of the working world’s downturned head,

but no less we come back down renewed.

blister in the sun

My eyes burn from
staring at screens all day.

What I would give
to blister in the sun,

with you, once more
14,000 feet high

above where passenger are allowed to turn back on their devices

above where planes fly.
We were swallowed by the sun

14,000 feet high, no reason
to be anything more than together,

maybe you can help me finish this one
with heads in the cloud, maybe it’s time.