(and since i’m tied here running photoshop batches for another hour or so….)

forgiven

in the palm of my hand
lies the crystal shield
of compassion
it glimmers and glows
with a light of its own
caught recklessly
between the lights
of two worlds
it satiates the primal urge
to run and fly away

what nought but this
that seeks suppression
what further drawn
alleviates the burn

come closer now
and the thought shall linger
chill mansions rose
where no one dwelled
before

~ December 18, 1992

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

recalescence

those days . . . .
vitality and strength
and the will to continue on
how much else then rectifies
the waste of an eternity
so many days now long forgotten
unattended in the graveyards
of my mind
some shadowless subdivision
of the thoughtless reclamation
of the emotion of a starry night
. . . so long now passed
that like eternity reconciles
the pasted glimmer
of a thousand stars
that fade like water pours
from between my fingers

i would live again
if only in this allowance
could the tokens be recalled
i am paled by the significance of others
their flows surround me
their auras imprison me
and without escape
i must sequester myself
behind the walls of solace

silence is a form of compassion
have i lost myself
or is this glowing spark of regeneration
only now coming before my eyes
i would be dead without these things
but alive
sometimes they stifle me

and those days . . . .
once remembered
. . . remind that i have grown
into what i do not know
but in this
i find i flow again
with the will to live

~December 3, 1992

of bluer skies and rain

and then like rain these fetters fall and crash upon the floor

windows on a world and pictures moving sway and tumble
come to me and sweet surrounded water-torn love me
sing to me your songs of love and unity and peace and joy
and i shall sing to you and cling forever like the dawn’s sun rising warm

when winter comes and covers me in cold and blanket screaming
warm me with your heart and soul and spirit and your strength
and like these cracking windows melt and break the chains that bind me

~ Abilene, Texas; September 1988
~ © 1988, 2003

after i posted that last bit of ancient hieroglyphics, a friend wondered if i had more published elsewhere. i did self-publish a collection of 333 poems back in 1993 (yes, 333, because i’m only half evil, and because that number was exactly 1/3 of what i started with). i haven’t made an assessment in these later days as to my editing skills at the time, but theoretically, the sabre, as i titled that collection, represented what i felt were my “best” works. and occasionally, when i read back through them, i am not displeased. although quite often, i am so far removed now from those sentiments and the emotions which brought them into being, that it seems like i’m reading the works of someone else. especially the really long ones.

anyway, i’m contemplating making this a weekly “feature”, but i want to keep it relevant to current events, if at all possible. so, to kick off your monday’s “fix of dawnne”, here is something i wrote on my birthday 1990 while in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Shield.

windless

The wind shuffles its feet like an old man waiting to die,
. . . and in the passing of an hour,
I came to know the emptiness of that moment.
And still, only one thing remains truly clear:
I shall remember you . . .
. . . and your memory shall light my way
like the peace of the forgetfulness of slumber.
And now the wind lies on its back like a young man already dead,
. . . and like I never thought it could,
it burns me with a coldness that leaves me void of words.
So, I say this one thing with all the fear that I have:
“Goodbye.” —
for I know not what, in truth, it means,
or what it promises . . .
. . . to then become.

~ near An’-Nu’Ayriyah, Saudi Arabia, November 2, 1990
Copyright © 1990, 1993

i have no doubt that at least a few of you will get where this came from long before you get to the end of it. it’s really kind of odd to look back on the things i wrote ‘so long’ ago. i had a tendency in my writings back then to waver between the literal and the surreal. and i pretty much steadfastly refused back then to say anything straightforward.

~~~~~~~

Into the face of a thousand endless screamings . . . .
(Like never before this silence had a name),
for all in its own self-righteousness
seems as if in silence only breaks the spell —
imprisoned by the words this hunger imparts . . .
and like forever, dawning on a sea of rust,
it is shaped by naught but silence
(the silence of a dream),

and then it dawns with a light brighter than solace —
shining through a glistening veil
of the tears the maiden sheds alone . . .
(and her daughter suckling at her breast
was once more to me than any view of heaven
could ever hope to dare become),

and the child knows nothing of it —
at least, so I pray.

Into the face of a presence that once I let surround me,
and out of a darkness I have yet to comprehend . . . .
And yet to be forced to live with the gnawing realization
that everything I have loved so well, I must do without . . . .

It is a different lifetime
(but one that must certainly be lived with understanding),
and the hope to live but once again without the fear.

Again, like diamonds glitter and the killing of a dream —
a forfeit of tomorrow and the wonder of eternity —
and it screams before this effervescent window,
and softly, it turns about itself,
waving as it drifts towards the door —
(a holiness that comprehends no indecision),
and like the calm before the storm,
it is the passion of eternity and the silent world below.

~“Into the face of the nemesis”, October 23, 1989