Love at the Beach

It's sunrise and low tide,
Pools abandoned by the sea's retreat
Reflect the earth and sky.

Magenta, orange, yellow, and white,
Remind us what we might have forgotten,
That light is full of color.

I cross through a graveyard,
The discarded buffet line,
Of unfortunate creatures,

Who either ventured too far or too close,
To the life giving/taking waters,
Of the sea.

I now walk underwater,
And suddenly I'm a stranger,
Ready to be baptized with the tide.

The wet sand is a plasma,
Smooth and flowing until chased,
When it becomes hard and immovable,

Which is important to remember,
When hunting for clams,
Or love.

Or so I'm told.

About Love

Love is the ultimate adventure,
And here's how it begins,
Come closer.

Hold my head in your hands,
Brush the hair from off my face,
And look into my eyes.

What do your eyes see in my eyes?

Look at my hopes,
Peak into my dreams,
Confront my fears,

What does your heart feel in my eyes?

Laugh at my childlike simplicities,
Marvel at my unique complexities,
Witness my pains.

Now that you see me. What will you do?
What action does this information inspire?
The adventure begins.

Will you laugh?
Will you cry?
Will you speak?

Will you reach across the table,
Embrace me in your arms,
And welcome me with a kiss?

Or will you ponder and listen?
Asking me to speak,
Wanting more than just a glimpse into my soul.

I don't know what you will do,
It depends on what you saw, what you felt,
Who you are.

But know that I'm doing the same,
I saw into your eyes what you were looking for in mine,
My soul searched for yours.

I promise.

Love is an extension of yourself and myself,
It's when two eternities collide,
And create a new being.

Love always leads lovers to creation,
Whether memories, or art,
or a child.

So realize that our relationship,
Is the adventure we built,
When we touched the infinite in our eyes.

I love you.

West Desert

I'm awake.
The warmth already becoming heat,
Sunbeams through my juniper branch curtains,

And my coyote call alarm clock,
Yips and dances off the hills,
Curiosity chasing away the whisper of sleep.

I water the shrubs/graffiti another's territory,
Stretch the truck bed kink out of my neck,

And kick on some sage brush cologne.

Hurry,
The Russian Olive perfumes at twilight,
and the Fox Tail ignites at sunset.

Lighting the dirt road home.

Ocean

I fell in love with a mermaid the other day,
Not the kind you're now picturing,
Just listen.

She's been marooned on the land as long as I've known her,
A cruel fate for the sea,
But to me her identity was no secret.

It wasn't her legs or lack of fins that gave it away,
I've never seen her swim,
I noticed when I swam in her eyes.

Raw, titanic, natural, overwhelming,
Eternal, bottomless, a cosmos, the sublime,
I surface and take a breath.

I noticed when I explored her heart,
Grateful for the opportunity to witness the wonder,
I noticed when that heart was unleashed.

Endless, untamed, torrential,
Tidal, expansive, enveloping,
The taste of saltwater tears.

So why is she a slave to the land?
What curse imprisons her here?
We do.

We ask and she answers,
She will always return, like a wave to the beach,
She has learned to listen to the moon.

One day I'd like to see her set free from the land,
I wonder where her current will take her,
Though I'm certain it will be beyond my sight.

I'm beautifully afraid of the ocean.

Don't worry

I've pondered a lot about certain things,
Things that might worry people.
Don't worry, people.

A book called, "The Anatomy of Suicide" taught me,
Every act of suicide starts with a desire to act violently towards someone else,
Then that desire turns inward.

You get that.
You're frustrated that nobody cares, nobody understands, and you hate them.
You want to hurt them.

It's not them.
It must be you, other people are different, maybe you're the problem.
So you hurt yourself.

Emotionally?
Physically?
Spiritually.

Maybe you've heard that it's about loneliness.
It's not about loneliness.
The conversations in your head never leave you alone.

They say the definition of insanity is doing that same thing over and expecting a different result.
Same thoughts, same doubts, same conversations, same mistakes, same fears, same me.
For 25 years, same actions, same results.

It's insanity.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of being tired and not being able to sleep.
Sleep is an escape.

Hope is to escape.
Not to be someone else or be somewhere different,
We've tried that and it doesn't work.

We want to escape and not be anyone or anything.
We're tired.
Of ourselves.

Maybe that was His secret?
"I am that I am", the Great Jehovah.
The only One to figure it out.

The only One to accept the truth.
The rest of us attempt to be someone else or hide from who we are,
That's insanity.

We run from who we can never escape,
We cover up the eternal foundation of ourselves,
We try to change the unalterable.

The semitic structure reveals a pronoun and a conjugated verb,
He said it simply.

"I am, me".

I'm not, yet.

Birthday

It isn't the gift anymore,
I forget to ask.
Plenty would be willing,
But every year gets harder to ask.

I've tried asking for time,
Your time, their time,
More time, stop time.
I get another year.

They tell me, "You did it!
"You made it! Way to go!"
What did I make?
What did I do?
Where did I go?

A childhood picture,
"Look how you've grown!"
"Look at how cute!"
Why am I crying?

I want to hold him in my arms,
Never let him go,
He'd ask, "Why are you crying?"
I don't know if I could tell him.

"Your heart will break,
Your trust will fade,
Just run away,
You aren't safe."

He'd hold my face, somehow understand
"Please don't cry"
Then he'd cry too.
Because that's what I would do.

So my birthday hurts,
Because I'm scared.
Afraid to care and be broken,
Afraid to not care and be forgotten.

And so it becomes a day,
I'm afraid to make important.
I've never been good at birthdays.

Untitled

Do you ever feel like you should do something because it's beautiful, even though it's stupid?

Maybe a ring could be a relationship,
Everyone knows that.
This ring has been ours.

We made it when we first met,
Not like a metaphor,
We actually made it on a date.

We chose olive wood because it was meaningful,
We wanted it to be meaningful,
Then it broke.

You broke it one day when you weren't thinking,
Not like a metaphor,
You cracked the ring in half.

You brought the pieces, pleading me to fix it,
The process was surprisingly easy,
Then you shattered it.

I wasn't sure if I could fix it this time,
Too many pieces, some were lost.
I'm crafty, not miraculous.

I came up with a way to fix the ring,
A metal core and turquoise stone to fill the holes,
The ring is beautiful.

But it came at a price,
Not just money or time,
A metaphor.

Wood expands, shrinks, and gathers oil
Alive like a relationship.
But steel is cold and dead.

In order to protect the wood I had to use the steel,
In order to protect my heart,
I had to use the steel.

Maybe we shouldn't speak again,
The lifeless ring and lifeless love,
It would be beautiful.

But that would be stupid.

You don't have to wear the ring.

Dad

Hi, it's been a while,
I'm sorry, I've just been...
You know.

If you know then why do I tell you?
This happens so much,
I wish I remembered better.
How can I forget?

I feel worse because I'm your son,
I feel worse because I should know,
I feel worse because I should trust you by now,
I feel worse...

Though I always say the same thing,
I try and mean it more every time,
You always say the same thing,
It means more every time.

Maybe that's why you keep saying it,
The same every time,
Never with words,
But with your heart and mine.
Their beat feels the same.

Maybe you see some of you in me,
I wonder if that scares you,
I wonder if you always knew you'd make it,
Will I?

You're always there,
You're always here,
I'm always here,
Why is it hard to talk?

Am I afraid you won't respond?
Or more afraid you will?
I think we'd laugh more than anything if you were here,
That part of me is from you.

Anyways Dad,
Thank you for You,
Thank you for Him,
Thank you for me.
Goodnight.

Coat

Sometimes I wear this old coat,
It's thin, plenty of holes,
Smell I can't forget.
A terrible kind of coat.

I put it on when I'm a special kind of cold,
To the bone, to the soul,
Cold that makes my hands shake and my chest burst,
The coat brings no warmth.

Why do I wear it?
Habit probably,
Tried it on as a child,
Now it's a blanket I can't throw away.

I've used fire to fight off that cold,
But I can't seem to keep it going,
The cold creeps in,
The coat is my last resort.

The coat seems to work,
The cold subsides for a while,
Then the wind picks up,
I surrender.

Which will end first,
The cold?
The coat?
Or me?

Nose

Every time you open your eyes you see it.
You've looked at it for so long you don't see it.
Look left, look right, look up, look down,
Look right at it.
Now you notice.

Of course it's been a part of you forever,
So why has it become invisible to you?
You take it out of pictures,
Neglect to draw it,
Try and forget its there.

Maybe you are the nose,
Always present,
Always seen,
Never seen.

A blur, out of focus,
Deleted from pictures,
Forgotten from life,
Why are you hiding?

It's so close,
Part of you,
You,
Always there,
But barely.
Do you see it?

Hide and Seek

I remember the first time I learned the game hide and seek.
You hide and then people come looking for you.
People are supposed to come looking for you.

Nobody actually counted to 100,
They were too excited to find you.

Nobody actually hid,
They all wanted to be found.
I knew I was good at hiding.

So we played hide and seek,
Then we got older.
We still played hide and seek.

We started counting days or weeks,
Then got too excited to find each other.

We starting hiding our hearts and our minds,
Secretly wanting to be found.

One day I decided to truly hide,
Nobody would find me.
Nobody would find me.

After days behind a tree I realized something,
Nobody was looking for me.
People were supposed to be looking for me.

I thought the game was over,
Maybe it ended a long time ago,
I let go of the game.

My hiding place was a beautiful forest,
I saw the sky for the first time.
I knew I was good at hiding.

Every now and then I remember the game,
Am I still hiding?
Is anybody seeking?

Numb

A young boy made the journey to a lonely mountainside. His village was nestled securely in the valley below. The mountains were a haven for one of the village's most important commodities, and so the boy slowly trudged onwards. As he walked, he dreaded having to spend the night on the freezing mountain slope, in spite of the company which awaited him... 

He spotted the old man's shack near the grazing sheep at the mountain's summit. The old man didn't venture into the village very much, his time was spent here guarding the sheep. The boy knew he was here to learn the importance of the old man's work, though he doubted there would be much to learn from the hermit of a shepherd. When he finally arrived the sun was just meeting the adjacent mountain range and the air became even more frigid. The old shepherd greeted the boy warmly and they made their way out to stand guard over the sheep through the night. They shared pleasantries and a warm meal while the last of the sunlight died. Eventually, the boy and the shepherd were left cold and in the dark... 

After an hour the stars made a grand appearance setting the mountainside a glow, revealing dozens of white fleeced sheep sleeping peacefully. The boy reached for a second pair of gloves and, noticing the old man's knotted bare hands grasping onto an equally knotted shepherd's staff, mentioned the now biting cold.

'If only the stars brought warmth and light, like the sun.' He remarked.

The old man smiled.

'I don't mind the cold.' He replied.

'Why?' Asked the boy, rubbing his still freezing hands together.

'We've been given a gift to endure the cold. When it becomes too much to bear, we slowly cease to feel it. And so numbed we can hold out until the cold subsides.'

The boy wondered about this answer and a silence fell upon the two. The bitter cold intensified when a slight breeze picked up. The boy broke the silence once again when he noticed the shepherd reaching for an old pair of woolen mittens.

'If numbness is a gift to endure the cold, then why bother protecting yourself against it?'

The shepherd winked as he fastened the mittens and replied,

'Numbness is a gift that comes at a price, for when we are once again welcomed into the warmth we must feel the sting of all the cold we chose to put off.'

The boy immediately recalled thawing out his frost bitten fingers after a severe snow storm the previous year. The pain had been excruciating... 

Thankfully, tonight the shepherd had made preparations for a fire and soon the two were huddled around a warm blazing fire that seemed to subdue the ever growing cold.

The boy stared into the flames and, as often happens around such fires, began to ponder and wonder.

 The boy's thoughts were interrupted when shepherd began again, 'There is a beauty in the principle of a numbing cold, for we've been given another gift.'

The boy looked up expectantly.

'What's that?'

'That is the ability to numb our emotions when we feel they are beyond our ability to bear.'

The shepherd paused, allowing the boy a moment to think.

He then continued, 'The pain of heartbreak, loss, trauma, loneliness, all can be numbed when we decide they are too much for us to endure.'

The boy didn't respond, drawing memories from his own past, times of hardship, loss, and pain... 

Minutes later he finally spoke, hiding a tear with the back of his hand,

'Then are you numb to the loneliness up here on this mountain?'

This time it was the old shepherd who stared silently into the fire. When he did speak he looked the boy in the eyes, the firelight igniting rivers of tears down his own weathered face.

'Be warned my boy.' His voice was steady and firm.

'The pain that you choose to numb must be experienced as a whole when you once again are welcomed into the warmth and security of your own heart.'

Neither the boy nor old shepherd spoke again that night, instead both their thoughts reflected on pain, sorrow, and healing while their tears reflected the warming glow of the fire...

The sun eventually breached the horizon and the two men watched its warmth spring life back into the herd. His duty done, the boy gathered his things and turned to make his journey back home for a well deserved rest. A weathered hand on his shoulder caused him to turn and the two then embraced in the morning sunshine. Gratitude shone in the old shepherd eyes and with a smile he thanked the boy for his help throughout the night. The boy looked up at the old man and said with a smile, 'Thank you, it is good to feel the warmth again.'

The old shepherd nodded and replied looking out across the village and valley, 'Yes my boy, it is good to feel the warmth again.'