Some final offerings of old poems that still awaken something in my soul of a time that was hard and yet still produced so much. I would not be the same had I not walked that path. And so, I am grateful.
Once Upon a Time
when stars were thrown down and
clay was pinched into mountains,
a thumb dug the tracks of oceans and
i lay sleeping
dreaming the fairly tale.
i woke.
the magic was gone.
each breath
labored
the blink of eyes
struggling to remain open.
to see what?
the scattering of stars
the immensity of mountains
oceans where i only care to
lay down and sleep
again
into the deep
tracks
where lost treasures of piracy
lay remembering under the
weight of golden glittered littered skies.
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farming
where i come from
mountains climb a giant expanse of sky
& the sun dazzles a crooked valley,
beckoning orange
trees to pay homage in fruit
shaped in her image.
where i come from
they marry young and fulfill the
command to be fruitful and multiply.
history is revered
ways hardly change.
where i come from
simplicity is valued-
thinking like everyone else
is accepted. there is not room
for those whose roots grow a different way.
where i come from
there are left-overs
who tired of jumping through hoops.
when faithfulness meant less than
faith & the value of a harvest
became the equivalent of what
was cost-effective.
where i come from
hard winds blow
lapping lakes dry
for fear of what will be taken.
for fear of what will be rejected.
where i come from
i’ve hoed long rows
down simple lanes that must
closely resemble the one next to it.
until i found
that where i come from
doesn’t so closely resemble
where i come from.
still, the sun coaxes
and fruit grows.
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Matthew 1: Immanuel
so much humanity:
Fathers and Sons,
and their sons, sons.
generations coming-
generations going,
and my own life seems to be slipping away.
yesterday, i was young-
today i’m somewhere in between
young and old-
in the midst of my generation
waiting,
still waiting,
for You.
