Alessandra Barlas
Just over a week ago, the world lost a living angel, Alessandra Barlas. No words can ever replace the presence of such an incredible young woman and daughter, but these words humbly seek to honor Ali.
Last night I sought the solace of an evening walk

To warm myself within God’s heavenly embrace,
Beneath the celestial canopy of midnight’s awe

To feel hallowed angelic breath upon my face
Yet this night I walked in darkness, cold and alone
This was the night angels carried

Alessandra home

I came…
To mourn and to grieve her beauty, her grace
To find understanding in this cold, empty space
To remember this angel who dared to tread earth
To offer her love, her compassion, her worth
Yet true understanding slipped away from me
Like a feather in the wind, like a prayer set free
The stars fell about me in sputtering light
Into the void that exists between Darkness and Light
Except for the brightest where dusk and dawn unite
And there I saw Ali, a lone star shining bright
Her life…
Was a promise in ascendant stride
Loving generosity, the absence of pride
Like a flower upon the vine in the fullness of bloom
That was carelessly plucked a lifetime too soon
Like the sweetest of wine out-poured from the Sun
A garland of hope in a world come undone
And I heard her whisper…
Remember me when I was in the field of flowers,
Sweet sunlight woven through my wind-tossed hair,
My eyes lit with a love unending forged by our hearts
Don’t remember me now as I lay here dying,
Weep not those tears from your unseeing eyes,
I will love you always this dream we shared.
Remember how I looked in my mother’s arms,
Sweet cries of ecstasy trembling from my lips,
My heart soaring with the fire of the stars
Don’t remember my skin…it would have faded with age,
Angelic flesh is immune to the whims of time,
Lips blue from a kiss of death, God’s breath
Remember me as I was, so bright and happy,
When our friendships were new and strong,
Our days dancing and laughing careless and free.
Don’t remember me as I am, laying here cold,
For our love shall never die broken and brittle,
Remember the flowers I put in our hair
Golden and purple crowns upon our heads
We ruled this Earth as royalty, but now I’m free
Yes, remember the joy that will echo back to you
When evenings like this are cold and dark
Feel the warmth of me always in your dreams.
Beneath this moonbeam’s glow, where soft winds blow
Remember me as i shall always remember you
With joy and warmth and laughter and dry eyes
And I prayed…
I hope her inspiring spark remains
her joy to fill our grieving chests,
enabling us to forever feel
the undying light within her death



Be still my love.

There now, can you hear it?

within the shadows
of our mingled selves,
softly rising upon
the rhythms of our breath.

Rest now,
sweet angel of love.
Lie spent upon my breast
and listen;
surrender to the
symphony of our souls.

Feel your senses
to the chords
of desire’s keyboard;
delicate fingers
upon colored notes
within the crimson chambers
of our dream-soaked hearts.

Hear the song
muted passion sirens
lilting lightly across
the dim-lit chasms
of our melded minds;
musical interludes
in sigh-minor.

See the trees
laughing willows of lust
sweeping low over
our embrace;
bending sensuously to us
in morning’s whispered light.

Taste the waters
melting fantasies
washing over our
quenched, naked forms,
cascading into deep pools
of ecstasy.

Smell the fragrance
desires fully blossomed
with petals of relief
falling, simply drifting
from the branches
or our love.

Touch the ribbons
colors blending
behind love-clenched eyelids;
blinding pastel visions,
stretching, softly binding
soul to soul in evening’s brief rapture.

Sleep deep, my love.

Carry this lullaby
into your hazy slumber,
and rest.

In the cool, gray light of morning
we will write another.



You ask if love’s forever –
A promise I can’t make,
But if I could, or thought I should
I would not hesitate.

I’d promise you forever
And then a day or two
If I were free to guarantee
Forever loving you.

But promises are born of doubt
A doubt that’s seldom real;
The love we know can only grow
In trusting what we feel.
Yet, I’ll promise you this moment
If words can still your fears;
Just hold me now and show me how
To love you through the years.


My thoughts on life….


We are closest to God when we exhibit compassion.  We are furthest when we withold it.

– dlmchale



Death in Syria and Libya, financial collapse in Greece, fires in California, ISIS atrocities in Chattanooga, famine in the Sudan, murder by cop everywhere!

The list is endless.

Where are the uplifting stories?

Where are the tales of human heroism
that lift us beyond our everyday blues ,
the stories that reveal the true range
of human experience?

Are we shackled prisoners of a media
obsessed with the belief that the only thing that sells is grief and despair?

To overcome evil, we must be vigilant
about the abuses we humans bestow upon one another, stalwart against the evil forces of our inner demons.

We cannot stick our head in a bucket of wilted flowers and hope that things get better.

We need inspiration.

We need stories of triumph and victory.

We need to imagine and create.

Our imagination is a book of inspiration;
On its pages are found the stories of shared love,creativity, hope, and universal promise.

Ours is the story of lives imperceptibly bound, threads weaving a rich and colorful tapestry of humankind, of hope.

Where can we find hope?

It is found in our children, our future,
a new generation moving out into
and experiencing their worlds.

It is found in the creative outpouring of strangers ever reminding us that the true nature of humanity is to seek higher ground and to share with one another the voice of our inner genius.

It is found in the artists, the dancers, the poets and writers…the storytellers, the musicians, the singer’s, the community activists, the revolutionaries, the preachers, the atheletes, the lovers, and the loved.

It is found in the spiritual and collective vision of each of us.

The stories that diminish us will one day
be supplanted by those that lift us up!

Ours is a story of the capacity to love,
to overcome, to perservere.


(Music video by Shawn Galloway)
(Poem by D. L. McHale)

to suffer is to love
to love is to suffer…

I have known life
I have known love

I choose love

I have known hate
I have known love

I choose love

I have known loss
I have known love

I choose love

I have known death
I have known love

I choose love

to suffer is to love
to love is to suffer…

only through love
can I hope to endure
life, hate, loss and death
each comes to me in their seasons
each comes to me in full abundance
and when the merciless winds
of suffering settles the dust

…there is love

to suffer is to love
to love is to suffer…

does not the agony of birth
seal both mother and child
in eternal embrace?

…there is love

Do not the ministrations
of passing Samaritans
heal the savage wounds of
abandoment, hunger and hate?

…there is love

Did not the sacrifice and the blood
of the Lamb upon the cross
wash away the sins of man?

…there is love

the sweet release of death
fully sanctifies the meaning of life
as loving family and faithful friends
gather together to shelter …in love

to suffer is to love
to love is to suffer…

neither are mine to refuse

I can not. I must not…I will not!
I can not. I must not…I will not!

for I have chosen love

The Receding Tides of Love by D. L. McHale


It is easy to say goodbye – to meet again is hard.
Love gone like rose petals fallen on flowing waters.

My thoughts of are like flowing waters, meandering toward the open sea on a hopeless journey.

In time, washed away over a burnt and fading orange horizon.

My hope, too!

The north wind blows! Oh, how it blows, mercilessly cutting with icy fingers into the quick of me…

Here on the ocean it’s endlessly cold!

My home is at the bend of a crumbling, salt-soaked pier. I watch a lone white sail at heavens’ end – like a waking dream, quickly gone – who can I ask where?

Darkness descends upon the endless sea.

We had often walked upon warmer, infinite sands, pressing our bare heels into the foaming wetness.

Your footprints were swept away too quickly…swallowed by the receding tides of love.

This cold empty beach was never what I wished; these scattered empty shells speak of inevitable ends.

The beauty of the ocean’s edge declines more year by year, memories pulled into the deep forgotten blue with each retreating wave.

As the sun goes down,  chilling lunar winds descend, whipping the sands, stinging my face.

With beauty comes inevitable pain!

To hear seagulls cry, or see pelicans on the fly makes me sorrow even more.

Oh, how I lack the courage for this day!

Wrapping solitude around me like vaporous veil, I turn for home – or what I once call home:

an empty room, a quiet room,
an empty bed, a quiet bed
my refuge from the darkness
my refuge from the light

In deep deception, imagining I’ve found a place that suits me..
I have made my home amidst this mighty shore, yet I can no longer bear the crashing of the ocean swells.

Outside my window, all the butterflies are white – a pair flitter over the dying garden’s light.

These damn reflections – they damage my heart!

Two tears trace two lines down my face, falling upon the ocean’s beaten coast.

Separated from the loving and the unloving: I have not often thought of her, but neither can I forget. We would not recognize each other even if we met again.

My face is covered with sand, my temples glazed with ocean foam.

In deepest darkness of night, a sudden dream returns me to her arms; we look at each other without a word, a thousand recriminations flow.

I know that this must have some deeper meaning. It must!

My muse lifts me from my sickly slumber, and smiling, asks me to write a poem, as though verse might somehow soothe this savage state!

I try to write the pain away, but there are no words.

Tonight, the ocean’s wind enters through the window. Torn gauze curtain starts to flutter and fly.

I turn slowly in my bed, looking up at the bright moon and send my prayers a thousand miles into light.