The burden of guilt
Is making me wilt.
Won’t someone please
Hand me a quilt?
That is built
From forgiveness and kindness.
That doesn’t turn a blindness
To the mistakes I’ve made
That are now behind us.
But gives us some space
To turn and face
The pitfalls and pratfalls
Of the human race.
I want to be a better man.
And I will if I can.
Release this crushing weight,
Please let me stand.
Memory is a tattered blanket,
Whipping in the breeze.
It doesn’t cause calamity,
Doesn’t set my mind at ease.
There’s so little to hang on to
By now I should let go.
Still I carry it, I carry you
Back and forth, to and fro.
I recall a summer day,
when you sang me Bobby Hebb.
And you a vision of beauty,
You were my only need.
“Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain.”
“Sunny, you smiled at me and really, really eased the pain.”
Sunny, one so true.
I still love you.
We start with the weather on the call.
But I don’t care about weather at all.
Because the wind will blow and the sun will set,
And when it does, I still won’t forget
How you let me take the fall.
Forgiveness is a barrier, forty feet high.
You’re told to scale it, so I try.
Check the emotions and the pride,
But it won’t get you to the other side.
No foot holds here. No cracks to pry.
Time is just a narrow band
Of uneven footing, and shifting sand.
The truth we seek is solid ground.
But what I hear is just the sound
Of wind lashing a tiny strand.
The drive is to find the birth river.
With an important package to deliver.
Molecules of home and preparation for availing
Of rushing waters that are much less saline.
Fighting currents, ocean monsters and net,
Other obstacles face them yet:
The impoundment, the angler, the hungry bear.
Thousands of miles, yet they arrive there.
To a familiar, straight-run, gravel bed.
This is where instinct has led.
Roe and milt and lives are spent.
Salmon, do you die content?
When the summer’s heat can’t get worse,
I’ll be at the beach, fully immersed.
Swimming free between lake’s surface and bottom.
Troubles? What troubles? I don’t got em’.
But during the winter’s long-winded curse,
You’ll find me with a book, fully immersed.
A curious mind, with much to learn.
Biding my time, til’ spring takes its turn.
Truly full of sound and fury.
Little rest and always hurry.
I Pause. Some hesitation.
Take in a gentle gradation,
Soft vibrations on the air,
Have a different meaning here.
Take a break from combat mode,
Let something older take hold.
Chickadee flits through the air,
Thankfully, not selfaware.
Admiring the armored symmetry
Of an old oak tree.
My worries are an early morning mist.
The sun gets higher, they don’t exist.
This is a moment without thought or time
In this moment I free my mind,
And notice the nuance.
Oh, when we were babies,
Well it was desperate times.
They would cleave
But we clung to the line.
And we’d battle for nearly any crumb.
They’d call us naive, call us dumb.
Still, we fought and wouldn’t succumb
When we were young.
Are they white-washed memories
Of a forgetful mind?
Or were those really