Category: Poetry

Morning Rain

from the safety of deepest sleep
I arise into the darkness
                           of morning;

the sheets beckon me,
stretching tousled fingers
            pleading for my returning -

raindrops drum 
their hypnotic melody
                         on the glass

and I am tempted
to answer the call
              of the welcoming sheets

as these are the nights
for which my body aches -
  crying out for the rhythmic comfort;

Mother's song on the glass
soothing the torrents of the mind
  allowing me, for one night, to rest

though these nights are rare -
my heart would take me back -
       my tired mind knows the score:

the demons of guilt will torture me
if I forsake work for sleep,
         even just a few minutes more.
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Seeking the Present

a restless dream of a place past
haunts our waking days,
leaving us sleepless
on the blackest nights;

we set off upon
another trek under skies of slate
along the tired roadways of today,
still searching for that shimmering oasis
on the edge of memory
where the cries of gulls echoed
across a placid bay,
the chugging of the lobster boat's engines
matched the beating of our hearts

and we never questioned why
we were soaking in the lazy rays
of summer suns
because we knew it was right and good,
as it healed us;
we never wondered at its point
or asked after its worth

it was life
and we were living

now we are searching
trying to escape
the demands of this broken reality,
desperate for a hint of a memory
of something perfect;
not realizing, if we stay the course, we are there.
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