The sum of all possibility,

true nature of our soul

 

To act upon or take flight from,

virtues to extol

 

What may or may not happen,

to inspire or pretend

 

The choice is ours, the will empowers

—to flee or to ascend

 

(Bryn Mawr College: September, 2020)

At what price, love,

the Angel’s sing

 

At what price, love,

the joy it brings

 

At what price, love,

our spirit’s rhyme

 

At what price, love

—the word sublime

 

(The Book Of Prayers: September, 2020)

Memories of the future,

dancing in my head

 

Recalling what will come to pass,

 joyous and unread

 

Reflections yet to happen,

vivid they befall

 

Voices that still wait to sing

—calling me enthralled

 

(The Book Of Prayers: September, 2020)

Some men are rich with a promise,

to others—millions are never enough

 

Fortune esteems what your vision can dream,

contentment elusive as such

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

Stealing my dignity in the name of love,

you took back all control

 

The past and future trading in place,

all memory untold

 

Stealing my dignity in the name of love,

child—father to the man

 

Whose power has dwindled and wheels come off,

with freedom all but banned

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

Finding fault

with a vagrant poem,

its message left unclear

 

Falling short,

while aiming long,

to harken every ear

 

What’s left unsaid,

an unmade bed,

the sheets pulled down and bare

 

The words still truant,

their search goes on

—whose message all to share

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

Dodging a bullet,

the PET Scan loomed large…

results both good and bad

 

“Nothing today

to worry about,”

but tomorrow left unclad

 

The moment secure,

the future unsure…

prognosis under siege

 

The lights of the O.R.

 calling his name

—with hope the last reprieve

 

(University Of Pennsylvania: September, 2020)

Information…

answers

wrapped in questions,

warped in dimension

—to overload

 

(Ted Talking: January 2018)

We die in the present,

but live in the past

 

Though the moment may claim us

—our memory to last

 

(Pine Ridge South Dakota: June, 1993)

Can our culture live on,

can its message be contained

 

Will an eagle looking down

see the joy or the pain

 

Will our heritage run deep,

like the river that flows

 

To an all-consuming delta,

and the life force who knows

 

(Pine Ridge South Dakota: June, 1993)