Moored Print this poem only
Floating upon the waters
has been natural for me
on my wavy journey of faith
yet for most of my life I have been moored
to one or another church or spiritual dwelling
and there in the six directions
of the medicine wheel
or in mindful silence and meditation
I found solace and inspiration
and challenges to be a better man.
Born into the Roman church
from a mother whose tie to sanity
was her rosary
each bead a knot
and the chain her bond to the holy.
Novenas, prayers, litanies, and creeds
became the native tongue
taught when we were young
mysteries and sensory symphonies
of the rituals filled us to the brim
spilling dreams and designs
for a special future
ending in the Great Upthere.
But a destiny of storms
awaited me on my journey there
as I fled into a barren night
a zeal and appeal of career my light.
Now in the lateness of life
I am again moored in a church
in love with several humble followers
of Jesus the Christ there
songs and Word and wisdom fill the air.
And back home I have my own medicine woman of a wife
a five decade anchor of faith
a vessel and fiery heart full of love.
So here I am no longer floating
or boating from one port to another
my friends are dying and growing old
my body battered and heart weary
but I am alive, again brimming and often teary
for God has taken hold of me
Jesus who hounded me has tackled this old fool
and the Spirit has chiseled and shaped a jewel
tenderized my heart with his reckless love,
his overwhelming endless push and pull
and with his merciful Light has re-created and made me full.
A Quiet Moment Print this poem only
In this quiet lake
floating on a fugue and the Clair de Lune
the softness of your touch
soothes me smooths and sands away
How sweet this pianissimo movement
before the bombast trumpeting of work and muscle.
These times make a life of worth and dignity
give now its power
and hint of eternity.
My Heart Print this poem only
Tomorrow makes its way into the history
of my heart – always a mystery to me
it is full of people, music, feeling, and strain
a morsel of ache and moments of drain
it has taken me
walked and run
from rising to setting sun
from shame to grace
from a lower to a higher place.
This old heart has filled me with tears
of sadness, joy, faith and fears
awe and anger, glorious heights
lowly dark and bruising disgust
love full of passion, pain, and trust.
Touched by victories over incredible odds
moved from darkness to cirrus gods
from squalls and brawls and angry shouting
snatched me from moments of demons and doubting.
Heart to beating heart in warm embraces
football in sandlots and youthful races
fearful greetings and tearful goodbyes
falling in love with her big brown eyes
heart to heart in evenings of sharing
from being apart to coupling and caring.
And so tomorrow I and my heart
go again for another new start
in the hands of healers
and angels from afar
whatever comes from this
if all is well or it goes amiss
I fear not whatever the course
for I have been - and will be - in the hands of the Source.
Author's Note: This poem was written the day before I was to go into the hospital for an outpatient procedure to get my heart back in normal sinus rhythm. I've had these procedures before, but still get a little concerned about the outcome. This poem is my reflection of that procedure and what my heart / heart means to me.