did i lie

There was that day
A few months after the big ice storm
I was alone in the woods
Walking from one tree to another
By means of a trunk that lay horizontal
Suspended twenty feet above the ground
Held by the limbs of surrounding brethren
Like someone who's been slain in the Spirit
Falling into the arms of another

I remember the force of his hand
On my forehead

Pushing

And the pressure to perform
The Spirit was moving
And I had to react
To be still was to be cold
Or worse
Lukewarm
So I had to faint
Like that tree in the woods
I lay there
(did I lie?)
For a little while
Suspended
While someone crossed me
Stronger in his Pentecostal reputation
A little more legitimate

I was one more domino in some larger arrangement
Knocked over for the thrill of the observed effect
More so than for the end result

i hope i still find ways

I hope I still find ways
To tell you how beautiful you are
How sincerely happy I am because of you

Like a mountain gathers the rain in her throat
And feeds her young
The rivers and streams
Carving new paths when the old veins run dry
And never fails to send them home
To die of themselves and live another life

If I could be that mountain
And break open to show you
The water table that slithers unseen
Or, better yet, if I could give to you the first warm day of spring!
When the world whines as it turns on a rusty hinge
And slowly opens its mouth to drink
After sleeping like the grizzlies in the dark
Waking, hungry, thirsty
Ready

Sing!
When I say these things you've heard a million times
May my song be like
The rooster whose call
Is bigger than himself
May my call become the morning
That awakens you and reveals
What you couldn't see in the night

That I love you more with every sunrise
That your beauty is my joy
Rise with me!
Hear these words from a new voice

For every morning the world is new
And we are new in it
And I see the world as beautiful
Because of you

a gift like an upright piano

There are sacrifices to every come and go
Gifts too big to bring on a journey
A gift like an upright piano
For my twenty-sixth birthday
It was more weathered than we
Older and heavier than our collective existences

It sat patiently like the perfect pet
Like a giant dog that only yells when played with
Full of strings tightly wound
Yet completely nonchalant in its posture
The suspense!

Like a well-crafted timepiece
Only noticed when less than perfect
We adopted it knowing we might have to let it go
Like everything, temporary in nature

There will always be a time to leave
When those great gifts will be too heavy to carry
Too big to hide
Too personal to bequeath
And there will be memories but no mind for memories
Pictures but no eyes for pictures
Stories but no ears for stories

And the functional things will be wheeled out the door
To be adopted again by a foster family
Who has no idea of our history
As we had no idea of the fingers
Who played those keys before
That now lay still and silent
Buried with the secret
Of songs that no one else will ever know

what is it about darkness

What is it about darkness?
Does it hide the distractions?
Is it a cloud, or an absence?
Muting light waves
So that other senses can come crawling
Out from where they spend the day
Curled up, unconscious
Their little figurative eyes
Clenched tightly shut
To keep out the overwhelming loudness of day

What is it about darkness
That brings about actions
There is simply no time for otherwise
Without pushing against the instinct
To just end?

There is, rather, a call that says
That just beyond the path of day
Off in the dark wood
There is a different song that plays
On a different scale of sound
That is not tidily fractured
But is like the call of a coyote
Gliding across the rigid bars of music
It rises and falls like the tide
And Orion
And the rest of the night sky
Swings around the zenith
Like the slowly groaning rings of a tree
Grow in secret, stretching out as part
Of a nearly audible moan
That only makes itself known
In the darkness

were we really there?

At long last
After the stories have been told
And the memories polished
And the claims made "I was there"

After every carved bark has turned to dirt
And every hurt
Has faded into a shrug and a sigh
And a chuckle of surrender

After gasps and exclamations
Shaking heads and gaping mouths
All the awe and wonder
Has condensed into a thick, sticky substance
Collected on the bottoms of our shoes
We will have to answer

Were we there
Or did we just picture it?
Did we experience it
Or simply attempt to capture it?

There is a trade made with every experience
We cannot have taken from the moment
Without also giving a bit of ourselves to it
Without leaving something behind

And I hope we have not returned whole