Crispy, crunchy bits on the floor
Remnants of what was once me
Speak in sequestered voice
Whispers for none to hear
Memories masked in flimsy gauze
Distort into moaning miseries
Slices of soul oozing through my eyes
Trek along determined trails
Hollowness hails each morning
Darkness so deep that no light gleams
Heaviness haunts my limbs
Paralyzes rational thought
No hope, no light
Nothing but everlasting midnight
Covers my heart
Entrapped in cement, I wail
Crispy, crunchy bits on the floor
Remnants of what was once me
Speak in sequestered voice
Whispers for none to hear
Memories masked in flimsy gauze
Distort into moaning miseries
Slices of soul oozing through my eyes
Trek along determined trails
Hollowness hails each morning
Darkness so deep that no light gleams
Heaviness haunts my limbs
Paralyzes rational thought
No hope, no light
Nothing but everlasting midnight
Covers my heart
Entrapped in cement, I wail
Walking along the beach,
I found a shell.
an ordinary shell
it is perfectly formed
six rows of ridges
ruffles
completely round
except for where it joined
its twin when still whole
the shell feels surprisingly cool
and light
as if it’s soul’s mate
disappeared long ago
as I stare out at the Pacific Ocean
I wonder where this clam
might have lived
and how it got to this spot
on this very day
in time for me to pick it up
Years ago, my family moved
to California
a long journey
I felt the hollowness
of forced abandonment
like the clam
I was not in charge of my destiny
that power lay in my parents’ hands
I was an ordinary person
no great beauty
smart, but lacking common sense
or so I had been told
my parents picked the city
the house, even the school
all I did was move in
confined by their overarching rules
until I went to college
for years I drifted through life
swept by the tides
working at one job, then another
until marriage grounded me
now I stand with feet in the damp sand
rejoicing in the gifts given me,
such as simple clam shell
held in the hand
Alone
In the middle of a crowded room
Silent voices scream for recognition
Fear
Twists guts into compressed clay
Paralyzing limbs, numbing throats
Degradation
Fills the ears of the emotionally injured
Ruining scarce moments of hard-fought joy
Depression
Carries sinking hearts into oblivion
Erasing memories of happiness felt
Hands
Reach out, begging for salvation
Yearning for one sign of love
Answers
Arrive in rain-soaked clouds
Pouring down tears of understanding
Compassion
Clears the night of unmasked terrors
Awakening remnants of esteem, long forgotten
Joy
Blooms in multi-colored bursts of words
Spoken, thoughts shared, kindnesses felt
Light
Seeps into the crevices of the heart
Obliterating shards of self-doubt
Happiness
Explodes in multicolored bursts
Opening souls to welcoming voices
Surrounded
Encased
Enfolded
Alone no more
What do you tell the children
who find no quarters under their
pillows – the missing gift of the
tooth fairy – when the proper
homage has been paid?
What do you tell the sad little girl
whose stocking is empty
Christmas morn – after leaving the
last cookie and a small cup of
milk – the thanks for the Santa
who never came?
What do you tell the young boy
who has no basket to leave on
the table – decorated with colorful
paper eggs and filled with shredded
newspaper – and all that’s inside are
a few stale jelly beans?
What do you tell the teenager
whose fifteenth birthday came and
went – with no party, no gifts, no
happy times – to mark the majestic
coming of age?
What do you tell the lonely ones
who never get a heart-shaped card
or candies – a sign of friendship and
love – who had only wished that just
one person would care?
What do you tell the little ones
who have no feast to cram into
their mouths – in honor of those who
survived – and so bite into stale
peanut butter sandwiches?
What do you tell all the unloved
children, young and old, who rise
day after day – wanting nothing more
than a gentle hug – and receive
harsh words instead?
For some children have everything
they could ever want while others
have nothing but emptiness – no
hope for more – the rejoicing washes
over, leaving not a drop of joy.
Let us cry for them
And then pick up our mantle
Of gentleness and offer whatever we can,
Whatever small bit of joy
Lurking in cabinets and pantries
Deliver it to a charity
Where we can witness the joy
That abounds in simple giving.
What do you do when your eyes dim
and gray clouds cover the world
and you live to read and write and
admire the photos of your grandchildren?
What do you do with your time when
it hurts to read and the words dance
in crazy swirls that hop across the page
and you have stacks of books to read?
What do you do when you feel like
crying about all the lost joys that
you most recently discovered, knowing
that, in time, they will fade away?
What do you do when you want to write
but the words drown in a sea of gray
sinking to the bottom of a speckled pit
and fall out of your mind like dandruff?
What do you do when the world you used
to see disappears behind a distorting mist
that threatens to take away your freedom,
your driver’s license, your mobility?
What do you do when hope seems to have
abandoned you in your time of need and
when you are too young to fall apart and
there seems to be only a steeper fall ahead?
You cry, weep, moan and seek the company
of family and friends who will listen and
understand how truly great the loss is
and offer sympathy without comment.
You get down on your knees and pray
to the Lord of all, to the God of mercy,
and ask Him to give you a few more good
years of loving the printed page.
You think of all the good years that have
come and gone, all the places seen and
friends loved and family times shared,
and rejoice in the Lord’s blessings bestowed.
Caught in a dark, sepia-toned world,
A desperate child cries in the night
Yearning for a mother’s love unfurled
Strong enough to scare away the fright
Hiding in corners to block out the fears
The abandoned child screams silently
Not bothering to wipe away the tears
He clings to dreams with such certainty
That reality flies far away
Swept up in a swirling gust of wind
The child’s home, a staircase of decay
The child’s heart, believing to the end
Mother, are you ever coming back?
I am so hungry, cold, and weak, that
It is hard to breathe. Your love, I lack.
You left me nothing: not coat, gloves, or hat.
His cries float into the starless night
Reaching no friendly heart. He gives up.
No more do the ravages of night
Disturb the boy. Empty is his cup.
Soapsuds, please, scour away
The scalding tears searing
My pathetic, rapidly pounding heart
Erase the train-track rivulets
Tumbling terribly into the very
Fiber of my frivolous, fragile feelings
Blot out the blanketing pools
Pulsating through my pores
Preventing my pupils from seeking sight
My heart aches horribly
Heat burns through the hull with a
Heaviness that drags me into my private hell
I yearn for luminosity of light
The cleansing cacophony of children’s
Mesmerizing melodies of merriment
Refreshing refrains of unadulterated relief
To wipe away the weariness weighing down
On my overburdened shoulders
Comforting water, wash a cool calmness
Over me, obliterate this one source of pain
So that my open spirit may rise with the dawn
Bubbles babble at my unburdened feet
Boosting me into the blueness of sky
Freeing me to begin at the beginning
Before the pain blocked my peripheral view
I can see more clearly now, for the scrub
Has done me great good.
Walking along the beach
I found a shell,
An ordinary shell.
Perfectly formed.
Six rows of ridges
Ruffles
Completely round
Except for where it joined
Its twin when still whole.
It felt surprisingly cool
And light
As it its soul’s mate
Disappeared long ago.
As I stare out at the Pacific Ocean
I wonder where this clam
Might have lived
And how it got to this spot
On this day
In time for me to pick it up.
Years ago my family moved
To California
A long journey.
I felt the hollowness
Of forced abandonment.
Like the clam
I was not in charge of my destiny
That power lay in my parent’s hands.
I was an ordinary teen
No great beauty
Smart, but lacking common sense
Or so I had been told,
So I had no say in the decision-making.
My parents picked the city,
The house, even the school
All I did was move in
Confined by their overarching rules
Until I went away to college.
For years I drifted through life
Swept by the tides
Working at one job, then another
Until marriage grounded me.
Now I stand with feet deep in sand
Rejoicing in the gifts given me.
Much like this simple shell
Held in my hand.
Desolate cliffs stand at the place
Where first I gazed upon God’s face
No shrubs or grass to brighten here
No rabbits, birds or white-tipped deer
Sadness reigned throughout my being
Blocked the sunshine from me seeing
Clouds above, below and within
Blackness covered every inch of skin
Upon the edge I placed my feet
Willingly admitted defeat
Dreamt of freedom’s staccato beat
Thought of God whom I soon would meet
When birds did fly into the scene
I wondered what it all might mean
Did He expect me to believe
Relief would help me not to grieve?
As icing on my private cake
A rainbow appeared that did remake
Lifeless soil into softened down
As comfort for my furrowed frown
With crash of waves upon the shore
I realized that I wanted more
Than living life like troubled boar
Whose blackened heart on shoulders wore
The sun burst forth upon a wave
Strode to my heart; pierced with a stave
Releasing sadness, doubt and fear
Then my savior, God, did appear
Now rabbits, birds and white-tipped deer
Frequently to this place appear
Marvelous cliffs to mark the place
Where first I gazed upon God’s face.
Words and Thoughts 