Rehab

no matter how much space he doesn't occupy,
it makes no sense. everytime a corner turns
in the house, his voice should come from the
other room. but it doesn't. get used to it.
it just doesn't.
pictures, viewings, friends, family, flowers.
so many flowers, so many friends.
i trailed the casket in hopes of it sinking in.
to know that this is reality, this is now normal.
and it doesn't help. it didn't.
when the family is all talking, it feels wrong,
that he's not there. it doesn't add up.
so strange how one person can fill so much space,
and leave such big holes. such big holes.

Sail and Gails

amid the rustle of the frost-burned grass,
underside the rubber soles of polished shoes-
in a place where few smiles survive,

she will wear the black dress, and she will
smile, she will sing. Proclaim to the sleepy
knoll, Jesus has taken away the sting.

the black sails that trail behind,
the box of all that remains,
walk slowly, traipsing on graves,
hover, whisper, tear drop across the place.

But she will smile.
In that long, black dress.
She will laugh, and smile --
She will sing.
"You can't hold him, you can't hold me"...
"Death, where is your sting?"

long goodbyes

the trouble with knowing someone is the underlying fear,
of knowing you will have to say goodbye someday.
the trouble with loving someone is that one day they will be gone,
and there will only be the memory of the who and why.
and the problem of saying goodbye is that not matter how many times,
you tell your head it's not forever you cannot imagine anything else.

the trouble of suffering,
is that you cannot stop it.
the crux of pain,
is that no words, no thoughts can alleviate.

long goodbyes...
if you make it through today,
into tonight.
not sure if it's goodbye,
not sure until the last.

which way from here

i should be reading,
the narrative of the life of FD.
i'd rather that i was singing,
and strumming, and moving to the beat.
the wind's blowing outside,
so loud and whistling through the cracks.
the sun is out and bright today,
shedding light in the winter,
waking the world up again.

and it's calm.
stillness, smoothness sun-light day.

who'd have thought?
i never wanted more than to be left alone.
the only one in the family who wanted for no company,
but a dog and a cabin in the mountains for home.
no wanderlust ever grew no desire to move.
but the wind picked up, lifted up,
and blew me, flew me, moved me around the globe.
now i'm not so sure i ever landed.
now i'm not so sure where home is.

and it's calm.
for a moment; stillness, smoothness sun-light day.

and the wind's blowing again,
where does it go from here?

Starting with nothing, ending with everything

There's a "new math" a-brewing, as Andree Seu would quip.
A math which does not measure in earthly standards.
Love which does not devour and consume,
For only the Pure Love of God can both
devour and consume us in His love,
And, all the while, make us more ourselves,
More Alive than we ever were.
That idea, i confess, is not my own,
C.S.Lewis had it long before i was a
Twinkle in my father's eye.
But it still stands.
Love, the healing kind...
This new math, what does that mean?
Does it mean i give because i get?
No.
It means in losing, i will win.
In forfeiting every love and idol claim of my heart,
There will be wholeness.
St. Francis of Assisi had a pretty good
Idea of what this new math looked like:
"May I not seek to be consoled, but to console--
not so much to be loved, as to love--
not to be understood, but to understand..."
You see, you start with nothing,
But you end with everything.