Prodigal

You warned me
not to overfill
my cup.

You told me
how life can spill
and drain the cup dry,

yet still I imbibed,
pouring darkness
like hundred-proof light.

My feet flashed like lightning
setting fire
to the innocent world
when suddenly I stumbled.

Seeing you come
down the narrow lane
I crawled in sorrow
into your open arms
once again.

(25 Aug. 2013)

Levi Becomes Matthew

The Calling of St. Matthew by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio(1599-1600)

You call me out
of my money hole
and tell me to take you
to my home?

How can a rabbi like you,
so well known,
healer and
Anointed One,
come into my
unclean house?

But, please, come along,
at any rate, and
let me show you
my tawdry place!

All my friends see us
on the stony road
and ask to join
my sinner's feast;

but after dinner
you gently teach
your painful path
to perfect
peace.

(21 Sept. 2012)

March

cries

pierce,

birdsongs

rise and fall,

from tree to nodding

tree, calling high between winter-

bare limbs, deep among buds long hidden, nearly ready.

(14 March 2013)

Nothing but Light

“In perfect humility all selfishness disappears and your soul no longer lives for itself . . . . it is lost and submerged in Him and transformed into Him.” Thomas Merton

The proud man
looks into his mirror
and sees bright shiny lies,
power, pleasure,
possession,
and cries “all mine!”

until, at last,
in the honest, good night
sees in his mirror nothing
but light.

(17 February 2013)

Memory

sometimes in mass

as sacred songs

wash over me like rain,

I break free

and drift

into memory,

and again you rise,

your tears flow

as tears fill my eyes,

your dying breath

whispering

good bye;

after so many years,

the knife still cuts

again, and

again

(20 May 2015)

Crows in Fog

Shrouded limbs

hang high 

over the rising red church.

Breathless, 

the muted world

waits 

in morning's 

white core.

That's when crows 

black shadows

on thin branches, 

silently wait 

high above 

the empty schoolyard

for children's shrill calls

to begin another 

innocent day.

(16 March 2013)

Down a Bright Way (In memorium Maryalice Claire, friend and mentor)

Close to the center, 

near to where silence

fills my straining ears,

where long years

of searching end, 

I find you waiting

my old friend.

You take my hand

and in a glance

know all.

Without a word

down a bright way

we walk.

(16 September 2012)

The Book of Life

“Perhaps the book of life, in the end, is the book of what one has lived and if one has lived nothing, he is not in the book of life. “ Merton, Thomas, When the Trees Say Nothing: Writings on Nature 

Turn the pages
past the flashy cover
beyond sincere dedications;
what do you
read?

Are there tragedies
lurking in your leafy folds?
Do you struggle, oh Hero,
with sirens and one-
eyed peep-
ing Toms?

Are you triumphant?

In your brief tale,
do you satisfy
harried Plot’s demands?

Are you happy
with your climax, your
denoue-
ment?

Or, with eyes moist and red,
at last do you drop
your ragged volume
to the musty cellar floor,
and wonder,

what happened?

(29 May 2012)