on suffering

suffering is a troubadour the privileged hide from but cannot escape do not pity them pity is just another room in their sunny Tuscany tragedy mourned with a broken heart honors the dead with compassion for the living the angel of vengeance hardens the heart with bitterness sorrow accepted brings us to our knees where we belong to each other

pretending

fumbling around in the darkness life comes with side-effects not knowing pretending we do criticizing the pretense of others so few ever stop and look in the mirror to examine what we actually are

castaway 1

out beyond the waves breaking on the thinking mind swims a castaway with amnesia

a quiet mourning

a quiet morning is coming when the birds will find untended feeders at my house a quiet morning when my chair remains unfilled and my coffee cup stays cold and empty a quiet morning I will not see the sky loving the clouds or feel the breeze kissing the earth a quiet morning when my story will be over and …