VICTORIES ARE NEVER VICTORIES
Victories are never victories.
Every battle waged is a defeat.
The end contains the seeds of the repeat.
Even heroes will take liberties.
Remember this, then, when you go to war:
Although the cause be just, the means is not.
None can write in blood without a blot
Seeping back beneath the bedroom door.
Death cries for vengeance; destruction for destruction.
A battle plan is always a reduction:
You kill your foe yet murder so much more.
FOSTER CHILDREN MOVE FROM PLACE TO PLACE
Foster children move from place to place
With memories that walk the night alone,
Nor is the love theirs that they must embrace.
Yet most survive with a peculiar grace,
Even though their hearts should turn to stone
As they move about from place to place.
Perhaps within themselves they find a space
To furnish as they would a mobile home,
Finding scraps of things they can embrace,
A memory like some much-fingered lace,
Thoughts and dreams that only they have known,
Moving as they do from place to place,
Their childhood impossible to trace
In the years of yearning after they are grown,
Filled with love they’ve chosen to embrace,
Yet with their losses etched upon their face,
Pain for which no penance can atone.
How can they move and move from place to place,
Surrendering the love they must embrace?
WE STARTED OUT AS FRIENDS AND NOW IT’S LOVE
We started out as friends and now it’s love.
How beautiful to move so easily
From comradeship to passionate intimacy,
Pure gain, with no rough edges to remove.
This turn was nothing I’d been thinking of,
No maybes or perhapses, consciously.
I knew desire, but love was not for me
Until I felt my heart from friendship move.
I never felt so happily at home
As I do now, so rich in what life brings.
Your pleasure now is mine, as mine is yours.
I never realized that my life alone
Flitted like a ghost among dead things,
Glancing in through other people’s doors.
EIGHT DAYS THE LIGHT CONTINUED ON ITS OWN
Eight days the light continued on its own:
A miracle, they say, but not more so
Than ordinary lives of flesh and bone,
Consuming wicks burned ashen long ago.
Within there is a mystic lake of fire,
Fuel-less energy, power uncelled,
Unmeasured fount of obstinate desire,
Hope burning, where no hope was ever held.
Invisible source of all that’s seen or seeing,
Unseen light that animates the void;
Unlit spark of indivisible Being,
Shard of One that cannot be destroyed:
To be so vast a miracle till death
Is why we struggle fiercely for each breath.
TO LIVE IS TO BE PREY
To live is to be prey. Meals for microbes.
Horror hangs in the blood like a barracuda
As packs of ravenous viruses howl at the moon.
No flesh is but food. Fierce hunger waits at the crossings
Knowing nothing but lust for the taste of our gristle,
Singing hallelujahs to the Lord.
Give thanks, then, too, for the gift of robust hunger;
In humble gratitude, for the legacy of lust.
Vividly we live and die, our suffering
In perfect harmony with our feeding frenzy;
Nor can we be else but both murderers and murdered,
Grateful for the unsought grace of being.
UNTIL WE MET I DIDN’T KNOW
Until we met I didn’t know
How light a heart could be;
How, chained to one by bonds of love,
I still could feel so free.
I didn’t realize that my dreams
Could ever be so real;
Or when I had all I could want,
Exactly how I’d feel.
This year of love has brought me through
A long-awaited door:
Were angels parked along our skies,
I could not love you more.
THANK YOU FOR LISTENING
Thank you for listening,
Hearing me out.
All my sad sorrow
Needed, no doubt,
Kindness and sharing.
Yours the love strong,
Open and caring,
Under my song.