commentary

stares and comments flood my every day

I have heard it all

fortresses have been built

to protect her and me

but every lunar eclipse 

one gets through the sticks

and strikes my bones 

and words do hurt me 

jurisprudence runs red

you bowed down to truth 

said your ablution 10 times 

knees hit your prayer rug 

in praise of true and trust 

bringing tears to dried out eyes 

in the honest baring of your soul 

even when it seemed impossible to speak 

the words flew from your hay stuffed throat 

this virtue such part of you 

when they cut you jurisprudence bled 

all over you new cream covenant 

the one you tucked your head under 

pounding fists into egg crate mattress 

laying on your bare studio floor 

when truth of you was whispered 

no louder than the beat of the Bird of Truth’s wings 

but when your ears opened 

to hear the white bird’s song 

you learned the grace in loving yourself, 

that you are a child of love 

and even when it hurts the truth 

will not end you 

nor can it be reworked by the editors’ ink. 

in the clearing

I walked in fog

not quite in tune

with all my surroundings

until I reached a clearing

when the branches broke

and the mist dried

I could see

what had stirred as questions

finally answered at those spots

where the sun broke through

and my eyes were open

 

I confidently carried on

or turned left

 

at times leaving behind

those things I wished to

carry with me until my last days

people, places, things

I sacrificed and suffered

at even more loss

then I had been doled

without the hand to guide

 

but the clearing always shone

where the path of right led

and I choose not to walk in harm

of you or her or him

I choose to follow

into the alone

so I couldn’t hurt anyone

 

I made one mistake

and for that I ask for grace

of Mother’s kind heart

knowing I’m just a child

neither perfect nor righteous

but a lonely soul

unwittingly

unwantingly

unwaveringly

looking for the clearing

so I can follow that path

into the light

I wish I had spots

I wish I had spots

like a fawn.

she reminds the world,

with her round white dots,

she is just a child.

babe of the woods.

we have forgiveness when

she runs too fast

or eats our daffodils.

 

aren’t we all chitals

-the spotted deer-

children of the world?

trying to figure it out.

just children on the path

hoping to get it right.

 

in some way.

at some time.

 

and when we fall,

bambi legs skating out

from underneath us,

shouldn’t we see the spots

of the fawn sliding in splits

give her patience and grace

and help her on her way?