When the time comes
When my heartbeats begin to fade
My eyes begin to flutter
I hope to see you there

Your floppy ears listen
Your crooked tail wags
Your smile grows wide
While you stand by my side
I hope to see you there

My best friend
My shadow
My furry soulmate
I hope to see you there

Sitting like a stone,
Why have we grown?
The moon’s following you,
On the street, walking alone.

This heart makes room
for those without place
find a chair
a bed
some peace
some space
my heart’s your home
make it sweet
inside my heart
not at my feet

This heart makes room
come and hide
at the heart of my soul
not by my side
my heart is warm
a fireplace
come abide in me
beneath my gaze
it’s quiet here
within my chest
come now
come sleep
find your rest

our wedding day, i said
when problems suddenly weight multiple folds
he laughed, agreed
thanks for bearing with me through it

Throughout sixteen seasons
I merely looked out of
the five bay windows of my
brick walled birdcage at
shadows of Elm trees
dancing along either
side of the street.

I was only
a lonely observer.

But late one night deep
in the heart of the fifth
summer I sensed an
odd strength surging
through
my weakened wings.

I quietly opened the
door of my cage, glided
down the driveway and
onto the street below,
enticed by warm blustery
and liberating midnight
winds under the strange
glow of moonlight through

translucent
sunbaked
and
cracked
clay
clouds.

I no longer just longingly
admired the view of the
dancing shadows on the
street through a window;
I actually felt the shadows
of those living branches
and leaves dance with
my shadow and felt them
caress my

hair
face
arms
legs
mind
and
spirit

as I did a
low test flight with
them for
only about twenty feet
over and along the
back street below.

I longed to continue
my solo night flight
like a bird through
the midnight air in
currents of streets
and hundreds of miles
of highway where my
baby and I like two
newly
freed birds could fly
across the

Sea
of
Change
and
of
Destiny

where we could at last
be truly free in our
hearts in our minds
and also physically.

But like a well-trained
domesticated bird
I reluctantly returned
to the large cage of my
mind where I continue
to dream of being free --

my
gentle
companion
and
me.

Wandered so long
I desire to cease
being on my own
for without ease
I've pressed on

I've fought alone enough
My battles, many to count

Relinquish control
Cry for help
catch my fall
Guide my leap
and fix my fate

I walk along an endless beach,
waves lapping at my ankles,
soft sand beneath my feet.
The world is a quiet peace.

I glance back and notice,
to my surprise,
two sets of footprints
trailing in the sand behind me.

I know He is here,
rejoicing in my joy,
walking beside me
because I have welcomed Him.

But one day, the wind rises.
The sky darkens, torn by thunder.
The waves crash, drowning my cries.
I stumble, unable to go on.

My life is unrecognizable—
rubble and filth,
pain and sorrow,
a world shattered by the storm.

And when I look back?
Only one set of footprints in the sand.

Why?

Am I truly alone?

I sit in silence,
lost in the weight of abandonment.
I search for understanding,
but all I find is emptiness.

I look up to the sky and cry out—
“Why have You forgotten me?”

Only then is the truth revealed.

Not my footprints, not my strength.
Every step in the sand was His.
Through the storm, He carried me,
through the waves, He walked.
Not a single moment alone.

I was never forsaken.
I forsook Him.
But he still carries me to the end

It hit me the other day
Not the smell of fresh tea
Nor the steam that hissed out of the spout
Spraying droplets into the air
But of the infinitesimal
Interconnected this of it all.

Even in this teapot a small ecosystem brews
Unaware of its function
I stared at my own reflection
And back it stared
It's eyes glassy
Or was that the sheen of the lacquer?
The smooth ceramic just was
yet my reflection was anything but
In it's simplicity it made a stranger out of me
I am a stranger to myself it seems
And yet I must be a teapot to others
Simplicity or duplicity
Equally deceptive yet difference in kind.
So let's drink tea you and I.

The juxtaposition betwixt
Hope & agony is often sharp,
Short but sudden.
Yet, is pain not longer suffered
All the times worse?
And of the flames snuffed?
Is this not the worst?
Of our fatigues,
They are addressed only in comfort,
Dressed by the garbs of one who understands
Our needs for medicine.
For the soul downtrodden
And the body corrupted,
As healers or like doctors,
Those whom we love enough to be as companions.
For the best remedy of any wound is care,
Borne out of love & not necessity
But because they wish to be there.