(2014)
Thinking about hard times and ways to deal with it.
One lit candle burns brightly As I make a wish upon it’s Golden aura, that Humankind May learn to caress the earth As the wind does a field of flower…
The lines in my hand, Were read once, By a gypsy, who Predicated a long life... But with many interruptions.
When I grow really old I may have to do yoga Full time, to get out The aches and creaks. When I grow really old
Memories of my childhood Visit more and more Each day, As ghosts of past relatives Cast their shadows,
Walking down the dirt path, Sounds drift on the air, Birds chirping, leaves Rustling, dogs barking. Interconnection of life
As I age this last quarter of my life, I am fading into the background. As I let go of roles,
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people
This is the America I know: A sea of white, black, red, yellow And brown faces, Strong minds and voices Raised to the sun,
Not a word heard As the river flows Over rock, around Banks that lie Waiting for visitors.
The dance of fear, Of not being enough, Stops and starts. The unknown, an Uncharted sea,
When I first heard “The Blackbird,” In the middle Of night, I was just thirteen.
Standing at a crossroad Between this life And the next, Heart in hand I knock on that
A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments