Have you ever been
To a place for just us
Where it was okay to do
When she wanted you to reach
When you let her unbutton
And she would
She let you slip it off
Have you been to
A place of…it was Pure
Where sharing was breath-taking
A look and a slow deep smile
You were free
Breathing, catching your breath
Losing your breath
But not wrong, never wrong
Have you ever been
Fare-thee-well too lovely
May the winds carry you to kinder shores
Where all tasks are clear
And not overtaxing are the daily chores
We pray for thee comfort
Along with all-fulfilled yearning
While we in a far past
Are left in our wreckage long long burning
Walk on in the fair comely light
May brightness and the cool grace your path
Yours hast been written
Inscrutable even unto the wisest polymath
So, fare-the-well our too lovely
Bring happiness to the yonder years
Yes, you shall be much missed
But joyful will be our following tears
Two lapsed Catholics
Sitting neath the tree
Contemplating the meaning
First comes Doubt,
Followed by Despair,
Then they’re closing down all the bars
Because they just don’t…
Give a rat’s rear end anymore.
I will be~
I will remain~
Silent as any inland sea.
My personal, private pain.
But You, dare chase away the shadows!
But You, dare speak my wee name!
Who am I without a shroud?
Who am I shorn of my shame?
To awake, to bold face the sunrise;
To awake, and glory in the day;
May I shed this foul Darkness?
May I choose my own small, little way?
Will you help as I chance the outdoors?
Can you guide me to that brave heart of yours?
My hand in your hand,
My hand led by yours,
I can try.
I will stand, to face what comes;
I will stand to plead my Truth.
Tho’ the Dire Draft ever lingers—
And the Cold Doubt readies to spring;
But to breathe free and fresh
Means absolutely everything.
Yes, boldly find your path or voice,
And we can then marvel with thee!
Burn the old cradle, Daddy, I’m a big girl now
Got my license and dean’s listed too
Don’t you think I’m all grown-up?
Daddy, tell me true
Burn the old cradle, Daddy, I’m on my way
Text me later to make some plans
But I’m off with my friends
No time for pots and pans
Burn the old cradle, Daddy, you raised me right
I’m grateful for all your love sans plastic
Now it’s my turn to explore
And sail the nighttime fantastic
Burn the old cradle, Daddy, I’m out the door
You know I’ll always call
You love me more than most
I love you, Old Dad, most of all