“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Monday, January 21, 2013


I do not know how
I will manage to endure,
but I know I shall.

Life’s trajectory
guarantees little indeed.
One can only hope.

I tap into roots
spiritual and grounded.
My center will hold.

Monday, January 14, 2013


Crackling and barren,
burdened slender boughs struggle.
Their shadows mimic.

Strength in stark beauty,
monotonic in shading,
essentials lay stripped.

Beneath the deadness,
renewal and hope await
their life cycle turn.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Only a Witness

A breeze wafts on wings,
invisible yet present,
passing with whispers.

What mystery comes
in near silence while passing,
powerful in deed.

Full comprehension
eludes my cognitive skills.
It may never come.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

A New Start Beckons

It has been a while.
Life wrenched in odd twists and turns
testing my mettle.

Wisdom still slips past
full comprehension and grasp.
Life can just be hard.

Small mercies cast hope
lighting paths out of despair
while I seek healing.

My head slowly lifts.
The moon sets. The sun rises.
A new start beckons.

My wounds slowly heal.
Full restoration falls short,
but I keep hoping.

Treasured companions
sharing my winding pathways
buoy my spirits.