Sleep

While you lay,
The world is
Passing by
a sleeping playground.
Inside a cocoon
Children’s eyes open
Underneath blue light.
The air glazed in silence,
laced by your dreams.

Eclectic

Sometimes I wonder
If I pray amiss, since
There is a rose that can
Break through concrete.
And pierce a sidewalk
That’s been crossed since
A man broke his back
Carrying rubble to
Stonehenge. A prayer that
Can be spoken beyond
Time and speak
Man into being
For generations, give sunlight
Where, all was once lost
And broken--grace now found.

Disjointed

Like Ezekiel,
When he saw dry bones
Come done, my
Disjointed bones
Come done beyond
My prayer--
A random sound
That creeps down
Balconies and
A sky that’s fallen.
The hungry man
on the corner block
Asks for money--
His voice is
Wind that follows me
Too quiet at times…
Too foreign, not comforting
Yet familiar.

My footsteps are
Etched in sand, then buried
Underneath water.
Seagulls fall just
Low enough to haunt.
But my shadow,
our bodies
Are children dancing
With the falling sun.
The flesh must die
So that I may live
The flesh must die
So that I can breathe
Even if my breath
Is frail, molten pipe.
My voice is the quell
Buried beneath coal
If I fail
To give the hungry man
A piece of bread, and
If I fail
To hear the song you’ve given
In dedication, that voice
Will cut the dull edge that is
my will.

Anticipation

Frozen. Underneath these clouds
Downstairs in the living room,
I wonder
If there was a way I should’ve
Told you that I was coming
home.
And if, perhaps, that would have
Have somehow had comforted
You, but…
How incredibly selfish. That January day,
You hugged me as I went
Out the back door. And now,
To think that I
Could change the hand of God
To think that
Perhaps I could’ve stopped Him
From calling you to rest….is not fair.
Is not right
Because you are a God who
Knows best, you are a God
Who has her in your arms,
You are what cannot be…
comprehended, Your grace is
what guides me to
Memories of birthdays,
Her laughter
And the promise
That, because of You,
she passed
Beyond the shadow of death.

Living Prayer

Heaven is happy since you rest,
An angel whose prayers
Walk with me

Each day and every morning.
The time you spent
On your knees, so that

Any time I walk through hillsides
I hear God’s voice. Softly above
Your laugh and smile,

That breaks sadness,
causes me to feel light. Every time,
Thinking of you…

You resting, wanting
Me to feel joy.
I think of memories

the tinge of your breath,
Causing scriptures to come alive
Even as I fall asleep.

Prayers for safety each day,
Soft chants of encouragement to
Embrace life

With each new morning.
The graying, golden clouds try to wrap
Their fingertips around me

With the lack of warmth from the hidden sun…
But I know you’re here.
Underneath a green sky,

Clouds cleft the light, burning in wind
While seashells clatter,
backwards and forwards

With the sea’s voice, mighty
Yet peaceful. Lingering
Waves flail and I hear your voice

Telling me to trust God,
And I’m put in a place where
Snow wanders in summer

Blue diamonds nurture
grass, sun-burnt
fingers that reach for Heaven.

The Sky is Falling

There’s something between us
That may as well have been
Spoken millions of years ago

Before light was thought of…
It already was. Before sound--
Was already conceived…

But somewhere, I know in
The fabric of time, there
Was a unsown button--
A thread through creation

That wedged a gulf. I don’t understand
But I ask
To cross the bridge
That Jesus built after
The wealthy man opened
His eyes on the other side

Of paradise. When I open my eyes
And see hunger.
The sun burning on its own
Axis. God’s creation
Falling apart in perfect
Symmetry.

Resurrection

There are those out there
who hurt, even though they don’t
Know it. I can say
That I am not
Perfect, but I pray
Beyond flaws, that hands
Will lift one
Another in prayer.
I can believe that we fight
Not against flesh
But against oppression-
Beyond distress
I knew was true
When your hand
Touched my shoulder.
Watched you laugh
With frown lines, stitches
That still haven’t healed.
When I listened
And heard your breath
Whisper secrets
When you yelled
At the lady for
Giving you wrong
Change. Felt you
Cry when you walked away
As if you carried
A cross in your purse.

Evelyn's Father (Thoughts Whispered Underneath His Breath)

The clock on the wall stares
And sees you, as a fly
Wanders, hears your breath
And sees your body, slurred
Across the chair. The fly hears
Your thoughts of Evelyn.

Thoughts that there is something lying latent
in her eyes a sunrise marching to
the thump of your heart beat.
There is a element of truth
That pierces through lies
Said when she was six.
In your smile, the fly discerns

There’s something ready to peek through.
Inside a picture, your smile breaks,
Ready to push through a secret
Blooming through your shoes.
Through your legs,
Through your fingertips
Beyond your neck and hair
Are dimples smiling and hiding something. The fly hears you...

What you were yet to be
Despite the shortcomings, Evelyn,
of those around you, you will be
Someone special. No, you will be
The embodiment of
My secret prayers at night. You’re already
More than I can speak, even though
You won’t hear me try, I will
Say it, now…
Try to be better, I will
try to be
Someone better
Than the man
Who sleeps in mumbles.

Opening Heart

The breeze swims around my outstretched,
Sunbathed hands; open, expecting.
With the sunset,
There’s a valley, death and burial
in the distance.
The sun is an eye
Behind the tree line, light stares
Calmly detached. Light
Was birthed from the mouth of God.
So, I will pray
With expectation.
with my mouth closed.

Sleeping Shadow

Tree branches bend
And give alms beneath the sun,
dusk illuminates the moon
Half hidden from my grasp
And praying for sleep.
But with you in mind,
your shadow within me,
the sun treads over rocks.
Thinking of you, will
Give me peace;
The strength to go forward
in your prayers
Of traveling mercies.
Even if sunlight fails.

Moment of Silence

There are times I wonder
About the ties that
Hold us, invisible. Mental
Tapestries of breathing
In and out each time
Air swarms our nostrils. Memories
That have the ability to fall through
Leafless bare branches of
January; the month that sucks
The breath away from mother
Nature.

On a Saturday night
Where headlights dream to be
Lost in the moon’s silhouette,
Windows break open, despite
The light breeze that sways
A girl’s hair. The sunset lost,
A lantern shadowed in clouds
Wanting to bleed rain.
At a diner, a busboy stands
On the back dock,
And somewhere my mind drifts,
Past San Antonio’s airport
Where honey buns and Latino charm
Gleam despite the silent air. With tired arms
Slinked with dishes, I breathe
past the Sunday chapel, beyond
Thoughts of feeling something
In a moment where excitement becomes longing.
Dishes clash behind me as footsteps
That desire to come back home.
My heart knows
Perhaps, my brain, that I must
Go through. This loneliness in crowds;
people around me, plates burning
My hands. I imagine
What would happen if I just stopped. But
Outside, I hear my mother’s breath
In my dad’s strength, my
Siblings love in my blood-
Pricked hands.

From Heaven's Workshop

I walk the streets, off beat
on crumbled sidewalks. A leaf
Lost in a park. In a garden

graced with birds tickling trees,
their footsteps whisper
on the branches. Music
from heaven, words

in spring’s light
a thought forgotten
And then remembered.
The birds’ voice would inspire
her. I ponder silently how

She rests in her workshop--
Her mind swarming with
Line-breaks
And King David writes psalms

while Abraham, the father
Of nations thinks of stars that burn
that can’t be numbered with birthdays.

My mother
I pray daydreams of warm summers,
lengthened walks near thunder,
Cracked lightning over the lake
Where she grew up and doesn’t have to
Run anymore. Enjoying
Palmetto’s half-hidden sun.

***
Sometimes at night, the stars linger
in the sky, stand still and question
the moon. Wonders beyond earth, what holds everything
in place. I stare waiting
for a semblance, a touch—
an answer.

***
In the park that night, the pond stretched
over the horizon. Calling from within
the clouds, the stars fall
subject to the moon’s silhouette.
 
I pause and question, think about her,
wonder how I could miss a touch
I never received. But I rest, stare
send a prayer
past the stars, still as if confident.
 
I look up and hear a woman’s voice
lost in late spring wind.
I walk away
and hear her ask with frustration
if heaven exists. The moon
pulls away at the pond, and in the waves
there is a glimmer. A star falls
silent, burns underneath the wave’s gentle ambling,
pulled reticent by heaven’s gravity.

***
Across the street, from a cafe
people walk to and fro—waltz
to class, to work, from home.
In the morning, where the sun burns
the earth’s panes, yet soothes
through the curtains, in my booth I question
when the answer will come. But I wait. I watch
people cross the street and wonder how
the spirit inside
holds rain for the heart to beat and grow to—keep
pace with. To run with even when the pail
inside seems full. Even when you don’t know
if you can run and hold anymore.

***
One day in front
of Wal-Mart, a man’s glance
told me more about God
than religion ever could. With his eyes,
worn with age he said, young man,
don’t stop dreaming, don’t stop believing,
don’t be afraid to keep asking.
I look up and imagine how
everything around us is in motion—
the planets move perfectly around the sun—
dying, yet held perfect in gravity.
Later that night, the moon pulled away
from the pond. I saw a glimmer.

The Carnival

Walking now,
The images replay in my mind
And over the years I listen
to my steps rustle over
the drifting, falling leaves.
The ground, the October wind
reminds me of a clown’s grin.
Wanting to get warm in winter. In
Defiance, the cold telling me
To go home. Find shelter,
Even when I want
To keep running in puddles.
When rain skipped down chill bumps
On my arms.
As I got older, I knew
I had to go home. And now
I see his eyes dimmed
With the light from the sun, the cloud-laden
glance against me, yet embracing me.

*
Lights glow in the wind that blows
underneath the stars as I walk with
a little kid’s stride. Music
In the sound of little elves
laughing. Girls play
as they run to enter
the carnival. Lights dance
while I  anticipate
finally getting inside. His grin,
painted with checkerboard teeth, melts
beneath his clown makeup. He looks down at me
as he takes the money.
Even though I’m shrinking
in my dad’s arm.
But it wasn’t long
after, that I was on my dad’s shoulder—
asleep with an ice cream ring
around my mouth.
*
It wasn’t long before the clown’s smile fell
to the sound of my feet, my mind
chasing after the sights of go carts
and bumper cars, the smells and tastes
of cotton candy and candy apples.
The sound
of wonder rests in the whir
of the Ferris Wheel I finally rode
as a teenager, while sitting next to a girl.
I ran inside and I didn’t know
that I’d see a bearded lady, or a man-
sized snake. I didn’t know that I couldn’t
drink five slurpees, ride the pirate ship
and not throw up. Didn’t know that you shouldn’t
dig your fingernails into the person next to you
when you chose a ride that went too high. But I didn’t
care, I tried it every time, even though
I lost my best friend for two weeks. Nail prints
were embedded in his arms. And with the clown
guarding the gate behind me, I didn’t know
that I’d see a monkey sleep
on its back with its limbs
in the air, trying to climb a cage
it couldn’t escape. And I left
that night, didn’t understand
why a loving couple had scars on their hands,
yet they embraced each other
like they weren’t even there.
*
Older now, my kids run
just as I once did and I ask myself
if the clown ever had to
turn a kid down from entering the carnival.
If his emotions ever bit
at him. I wonder if he ever had to
watch a kid cry, even if he didn’t want to,
even if he had to say no to someone who didn’t
have enough money and it ate at him. If
he ever hurt
in such a way
that a shark tears
at flesh. I wonder sometimes
if behind his smile, tears swarm
and dissolve the mask beneath
his cheekbones. Worn with age,
I look at him standing there, standing alone.
And as we pass by, I hear myself
Telling the kids to say
thank you, but they don’t
hear me as they run inside. So I tell him myself. 
When we leave, I smile as one of my sons
tells me, he saw that clown
smile at me.

Starlight Sleepwalk

God takes my hand and shows me
where the moon used to be;
I find my dreams tell me
to touch what lies feet away. But
no, must keep my distance...
 
I walk in the night
and find myself
surrounded by falling dreams, wishing stars
burning as angels whisper nursery rhymes
to heal the brokenhearted, it all lies
before me,
So much pain.

I find my dreams tell me
to touch what lies feet away.
The desire to love is blundered,
And many people turn away 
with their hands burned
trying to touch the sun
in their dream for better days,
 
I watch friends and loved ones in pain,
and soon the desire to touch morphs to dust,
knocked down by what’s real and not
gently nestle the ground and stare
 
at fallen dreams over the horizon.
He runs and catches them since
 
He knows their name. A tear falls
while the night’s breeze tucks me in
to sleep under the wishes of so many.

From my bed, I watch the stars
falling, streaking past my window.
I almost see myself running
to tell them
that it’ll be okay, whoever you are.
 
The night blurs by with every wish
feeling helpless, I can’t reach them all.
But I can pray for the dawn
 
that is coming. Finally, He will
Rescue us in time. He tells me
that it’ll all be okay, rest
in the breeze of peace.

Evelyn's Father

Then spake Jesus
Again unto them, saying,
I am the light of the world:
He that followeth me shall not
Walk in darkness but shall
have the Light of Life
~John 8:12
 
Sometimes in dreams
I hear
John the Revelator
reciting scriptures
telling me what’s to come—
 
I hear him talk as
he walks with me at midnight,
past the shadows
of my own thoughts, feelings I ponder
so much, know so little.
 
He tells me nations will be judged
those who don’t receive him
those who reject
those who don’t believe
even those without spot or wrinkle--
will face a doom that’s yet been met.
 
I’m scared John,
so I recite the 23rd Psalm—
The Lord is my shepherd,
is he?
I shall not want,
but I do. There’s so much I want
to understand.
 
Wars and rumors of war,
deacons stealing from the pots,
men creep in unaware
by leading sheep into the hearts
of wolves, it hurts me so.
 
John, tell me, when
will it get better?
In the dream world, I continue
to walk through the darkness,
for I know there must be an end
 
to the means, there must be
something better. Marriages fall
apart, fifty percent divorce rate—how
will Adam and Evelyn make it?
 
I read Emily Dickinson
the other night, she knew
what to ask, so I ask her now
what she’d say or do.
 
I hear her voice next, gently
rambling in my mind.
I stare at skinny branches
scraping my window, resting
 
in the night like toothpicks trying
to prick the sky, her voice speaks volumes
in little time, I hear her say
 
that scriptures don’t help
don’t seem to care,
but truth—is
too—reticent.
 
In the quest for silver lining
my spirit—too perplexed
I search for answers still—
not found just yet.
 
If you are the light, help
me deal with losing
my wife and Evelyn.
 
I was wrong to try to break
her heart, but
I want to repent.
 
I wait, now
but it’s dark once again.
 
In this house right now,
the moonlight is
my only comfort, my only
release.
 
If you are the light,
simply—speak.

Adam and Evelyn

In a great green field, I watch
My son, new daughter-in-law
march past little bells
of half bloomed azaleas.
Tinged with morning dew—
fog lingers beneath a cloudy sky
drawn faint violet by God’s great hands.
 
Adam and Evelyn, wait next to wilted daffodils
in front of the friends who said
you should have broken
up, her family that said
they will never make it.
 
Stand, forget the tears
that fell last night when Evelyn’s father
ran through the failures of Adam.
“Where’s the money, where’s his future?
He’ll lead you nowhere.” But today
 
Sunlight drips from petals,
the rain from last night gone.
Now tears of joy, sunlight
flows slowly down her cheeks, prayer-like,
to counter floods of destruction.
 
Adam and Evelyn,
waltz on grass, in beat
to the heartbeat of so many.
Evelyn’s eyes rest on a dove,
a tiny white blanket tucked in
the wind, trying to flee
from a clothesline.
 
Your friends ill-will, jealousy
Seamed, line the walls
of their destiny. But
No matter who comes against you,
you have God and each other.
 
The dove flies as
the storm clouds build, light
streaks as they exchange vows.
Nature’s wrath begins to fall.
 
But from the garden they ran in rain.
With a kiss, hand in hand
they lead the exodus to safety, while
The dove flies to heaven.

War

As I remember my dad’s voice, he says
to have friends, you must
first be a friend. To care about someone, you must

first care for yourself. To love someone, you must
give. You must sacrifice yourself
so that you may receive life.

Riding in the car, my dad
insists that I take care
of myself. I wonder.
Take care of myself, in the process love

those around me, from afar if I had to leave them.
I ask myself, what would happen if I weren’t here.
Outside, the leaves crawl
and fall slowly, being taken by the wind.

They don’t fight it, they question
as they are blown this way and that,
but once the wind stops
they land softly. The wind will
pick up again. And again, the leaves will question

their destiny. Rattling the ground, sweeping the grass
as if to ask must they go. But, even if
it was only to the edge of the browning lawn, preparing
for spring, even if the wind took them where they didn’t


want to go. As the wind picked them
up, I saw them land softly on the lawn, the gateway
to the air that embraced them
to the sky.

**
The air of winter tears
at my eyes, causes them to blur
with the image of faint Christmas lights.
Ghosts creep out of chimneys as

I realize I’m close to home. I hear
rain, tears in the garden
of Gethsemane falling on the streets.
I walk with a burden, wrestle

within myself. The red lights blur, make me think
of when Jesus prayed so hard
that His sweat dripped as blood.
Three times
He asked if the cup must stay

with Him, if He had to die
after being betrayed, must He die
so that He and so many others may live.
And of course, He must

have asked, maybe even questioned
to an extent, if it had to be done.
An angel descended
to comfort Him and even then He prayed


more earnestly. In finality,
He knew it was God’s will
and with all of us in mind

the answer was He must.

I watch a leaf fall
and rest in my hands.
And I think of how leaves are born
in the sky, then fall and die

only to rise again in the spring.

Inside the house,
my father’s words spin in my mind and
Ask myself again; what would happen
if I wasn’t here. And then
I hear him
Ask the same question.