A Blaze of Light

Like solar flares, our thoughts, they zap and flit

And make us want to slot and clip

And organize to tale or song.

Then the through line, 

The red line, 

The bottom line, 

They box us in, 

And keep us rough,

And mean, 

And quick.

Until we float above, and look, 

And comprehend

The things we couldn't see, 

The flares of others,

Bright, 

And sharp. 

Against the edge,

Occluded by our satellite,

Our blind spot, 

But not all. 

Their corona streams around

And slides and twists

To our perceiving eyes. 

But only if we watch,

And wait,

Are still enough to see,

To act aright,

And love.

Ways of Blindness

We want hard 

And feel fast

and overlook 

the others' grief

others' sorrow 

We can't see 

Because we look

and want to look

above the rest

actively miss him

or mishear her 

Where would we

Get calm and reflect? 

is not the other

real too?

What about inside?

Where does the look go

that we miss

actively lie

by misseeing

When life is short

And hearing takes long

And what we miss

Will not repeat 

Every sight

Every together

Every one

Counts

Oneita

he told his mom, I think she might... be the one

she told him... go and buy a ring

she drove past when he was getting home

before he knew her friends would come 

they met, they saw, they joined as one

but then he saw the writing on the wall and signed

she went with and welcomed little Jim

then back home where Steph came in

he saw and welcomed her ambitious words

she'd wait again, when he wasn't home

they wanted more, but then they came another way

two red heads, first John, then Phil

and growing up they brought their light

and shone and burned, she loved them right

but then he could not drive himself back home

it broke her heart when Phil was gone

but she still had Jim, and John

they'd call, invite and hold so many little ones 

who all grew up, and left to live their own

then off to England, to help them write

evr'y name and date and place of 1881,

and back again, and to Nauvoo to count, and write, and do

but crack, it didn't hold, and Jim was gone 

way before his due

when Milton came she welcomed him

they lived and loved a wave of little ones 

the heart that loved then beat no more

and quiet then, and lonely too

and slower then, and slower too

she loved and cared and started to review

and count and tell and hold all them

all those who wandered through 

then two angels came to care and live and watch

they stayed, she lingered there

then softly and quietly, in the night, she too was gone

she'd taken flight, and hoped that Jim would hug her tight