Reflections (Scattered Poetry)

Time on the Edge

It seems I should be comfortable now,
Lying just so,
So precariously.
One false move,
Ouch, another cut.
Seems like I’m spending more time
Than I ought here.
Right here on the edge.
And so I breathe deeply,
And let it out in a sigh,
And let the fear and panic dissipate,
And the storm clouds go unacknowledged.
Taking a moment, a quiet one,
Here on the edge,
My time to ponder the “why” of it all.
Wonder “why” I keep coming back,
Back to the same spot.
What exactly was it I missed,
Last time around.
Eyes always fixed ahead,
On the next step,
on the time when everything is right again.
Although I never quite get it right,
What that time is supposed to look like.
So instead I’ll lean back,
And soak in the scenery,
Maybe pitch a small tent,
Build a campfire and take a long look around.
After all I wouldn’t keep coming back
If there wasn’t something here,
Something to see,
Something to know.
Or maybe just a moment to learn,
To learn to quiet my own heart.

Spending Time

Waiting
Waiting desperately
for change to come.
eyes fixed on a different time,
so cognizant of the anxiety of the present.
Waiting
Waiting for a painful stretch to end,
blinded by the anguish and uncertainty
of the moment.
Breathing deeply
and stopping thought
that breeds discord.
Stopping thought
and moving in the present,
quietly in each moment,
learning to live peacefully
in uncertainty.

A thousand years ago . . .

Is it a thousand years ago since I have seen your face?
And I have left what should be finished hanging in an uncertain place.
Is it so much time since we’ve expressed the truth?
My hope was to be closer to you
But it’s all fallen away.
I can’t believe you’ve left.
I expected the earth to cave into itself when you did.
But it was quiet, somber, silent perhaps.
And so gently, as was your soul.
The world since you’ve gone is perplexing to me.
We’ve all lost our center, our very gravity.
I couldn’t have imagined this place in your absence.
And while I know you’ve gone, moved onto new adventures,
In some ways it feels that you’re still here, waiting quietly,
To egg us on, to hold us close, to let us know you’ve never left.