Opposite Sides of the Same Pain


A Sunni mother silently watches:
overhead, a gathering of scavenging ravens
paints the dusky sky
above the broken bodies of her three children.
Bewilderment mixed with horror and beauty,
accented by the pebbles beneath her feet,
polished smooth by a flood of tears.
An acrid wind swirls
with scattered hope and broken dreams;
confetti raining on freshly scorched earth.
Another womb is rent in unbearable grief
at the loss of its precious fruit.

In that very moment, across the sea,
a Haitian waif reflects:
a flock of seagulls angrily position
above the ghetto garbage heap,
next to crumbling shanty
where her newborn triplets scream with hunger.
Bewilderment mixed with horror and beauty,
the waste beneath her feet glistens
with the flood of her tears.
The stench of rotting wind swirls
with scattered hope and broken dreams;
flies rising up from quaked earth.
Another womb is rent in unbearable grief
at the bounty of its damnable fruit.

Broken Smiles


Behold, such sadness in her eyes;
sweet longing, deep sighing, for days gone by.
A single translucent tear descends,
etching a deep, meandering rivulet
through her softly powdered face;
betrayal writ in her broken smile.

She wears defeat with noble grace.

Alone within her cruel vexation,
Her despair drifts upon scented air.
I am entranced by this cheap perfume;
I cannot, I will not, look away.

Her emptiness devours me;
I am lost within her reverie.

A thousand questions knit into one:
What tragedy before unfolds?
Has deathly illness laid low a precious kinship?
Perhaps a lover, forever fore-sworn, now departed?
Promises shattered like broken glass;
cutting her dreams into ribbons?

She rises slowly, partly turns;
her glazed eyes lock onto mine
but for a whisper of a moment;
I offer nothing more of comfort
than my own broken smile.

Tears well within my intrusive eyes
and I look away:
My empathy is my undoing
and shame rises to paint my cheeks
a mournful blush.

I turn again and she is gone!

Years have passed
and still my broken heart
beats in imperfect rhythm.

Was she set before my vision
or concocted from memory’s revision?
Did she find her peace once more;
perhaps some comfort in our communion?
Even now I feel her sorrow
like a midnight fog rolling over me.

My tears have long since dried,
but my cry is eternal.

The Trinity and Me


First They took my father, and then consumed my mother
Without the slightest hesitance, They came and took another
My sister left in tender years, They left me naught but pouring tears
We’re promised today and not the other, so They came again and claimed my brother
I prayed They’d come for me one day,, but here I stand with feet of clay
And this belies my ardent fear, They’ll not return for many years
Leaving me with nothing more than dreams of how it was before
How cruel and painful can They get, my day will come, but not just yet
And so I stand here all alone, with a wounded heart and an empty home.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; which of these I hate the most?
The Trinity it’s plain to see, for it’s all for One and none for me.

Lost Innocence


Like a child’s lost innocence
that time and nature steal away,
without the slightest reverence
or sympathy for child’s play.

So do we, in love’s all knowing
pay once more this price for growing.

We brush away our young one’s tears
when life becomes demanding,
and offer in those tender years
a gentle understanding;

Yet we as lovers, slaves to passion,
lose our touch for such compassion.

We dream as children, trouble free;
careless nightly visions
as children’s dreams were meant to be
before life’s cruel revision.

That lover’s can’t makes perfect sense
for dreams belong to innocents.

Our children have so much to teach
and we so much to learn:
that childhood beyond our reach
is innocence lost, and common sense earned.

Life must demand this sacrifice,
but still, it hurts to pay it twice.

The Love I Once Had…And Lost


I have no thought of future love –
That’s a bridge I’m not ready to cross…
I need time yet to heal
From the pain that I feel
For the love I once had…and lost.

It’s not that I don’t feel the need –
In truth, no need is greater;
But unless I survive
What I’m feeling inside
I’ll have no need for later.

Be patient with me, please understand –
I’m not a man who’s made of stone…
I’ll deal with tomorrow
When I’ve dealt with the sorrow
Of living today all alone.

I’m not giving up on the future –
I just have no time for the thought
Of loving again
While I’m still lost within
All the love I once had…and lost.