Always just listening
Even late in the night
When hours escape her sleep
It’s the Little Things
He used to bring me coffee in bed, we would lie there and talk, starting our weekend mornings with a cup of java was always the best. He used to squeeze my hand so tight as we would take our walks here and there, holding hands like teenagers. He used to surprise me with special gifts on special days.
Still Like a Rolling Stone
Yet, the inflexibility within people’s hearts and minds seems so sadly similar to today. Like so many artists before him, he’s paid a deep price for his art.
Always In This Heart
Always in this heart of mine
There’s a place for you
Is there in that heart of yours
Room for me too
Somewhere in this world of ours
Room for us to share
Somewhere in this world of ours
Time for us to care
A Dance of Delight
Hey little children, don’t you cry no more
A kinder wind is blowing, soon you’ll all be warm
In a much better place than from where you were torn
Food to quench your hunger, shelter from the storm
Love
In the worst of this mess
To find it: This isness
Instead of communicating
With a chasing and constant dizziness
Of always wondering
Why there is a sense between me and other of trashy stickiness
And scratchy itchiness
And patchy frizziness
And unfinished business
Between truth and fiction
Who Can Judge
Some judge a man by the color of his skin
They play him down till there’s nothing left for him
But to cry out in anguish, in fear and in pain
What I’m Trying to Say
With you…and without you.
COVID-19
The vaccine or God, which one? Which will show up and tell us that this will come to an end as quickly as it began.
Poem for the day…. Field Notes: March 20, 2020
but
now
unexpected
there is a weight
a mental haze
a physical heaviness
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