With Grace Sent

I often walk a mile

  to go just fifteen steps

 

I often write ten pages

  for that line that dries and sets

 

I often talk a blue streak

  hoping for one special word

 

And often love beyond my heart

  —with grace sent from our Lord

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Reasons Mine To Keep

Do I reach for understanding

  or is knowing quite enough

 

Or deem then that important

  if the difference smooth or rough

 

Do I understand a mountain

  or the bear that lives within

 

Or just know that it belongs there

  and the mystery that it brings

 

Do I understand the Ocean

  or the waves that break so high

 

Or just hear its thunder crashing

  and not need to wonder why

 

Do I understand what time is

  its symbols and what they mean

 

Or understand a life laid down

  in battles unforeseen

 

Do I understand a memory

  or just smile whenever it calls

 

Or understand tomorrow

  when today my life befalls

 

Do I understand the anger

  or just control it when it barks

 

Or understand the danger

  sometimes lurking in the dark

 

Do I understand the words I write

  when the Muse shakes me from my sleep

 

Or understand the excuses loaned

   —the reasons mine to keep

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

I’m Tired

I’m tired of baiting

  and tired of hating

 

I’m tired of winning

  in a rained out inning

 

I’m tired of loving

  when love’s not returned

 

I’m tired of crying

  tears poisoned and spurned

 

I’m tired of reasons

  excuses for treason

 

I’m tired of answers

  to questions now censored

 

I’m tired of forgiving

  the past repeating again

 

But I’m most tired of wishing

  —as hope turns to pain

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

To My Grandmother (1900-1999)

I store you inside me

  under a blanket of pearls

 

They lie strung together

 as my history unfurls

 

Each one to unstring

 when I need it the most

 

Your wisdom translucent

 your memory my host

 

You loved me before

 I ever knew who I was

 

My freedom you shepherd

 reaching down from above

 

Though years have grown distant

 they forever remind

 

Of your goodness and blessings

 —Oh Catherine of mine

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)