It Hurt

Today’s coffee reminds me of the day
I ripped a six inch long
one inch deep hole into
the back of my leg.
Thirteen years old,
maybe I was fourteen
at my best friends father’s shop
he worked a lot with cement
and had a big yard
with mounds of gravel
we’d go up and down and around
on our new single track bikes.
It hurt
it hurts
and memories are always there
to bring me away
and back
to where some memories hurt
but ripping the hole
didn’t really hurt
flesh wounds are like that.

So Long Ago

What is the hardest thing?
A glowing orb at an unending tunnel
Flashing lights in otherwise darkness
Moments of stillness broken by reality
A whisper one still remembers
Sun so long ago
And a night that must end.

But how soft it can often hit
Like haze on a full moons glow
Orbs opening
And a bead of sweat upon thy lip.

Pain can remain
And lost within thy brow
A handful often mistaken rashly
Just as this lingering upper back kink.

Building Strength (day 3068)

Would you follow me
Into depths of wonder;
A lion slowly looking back
Before entering its den.
And like the fanning feathers
Of an egret,
Would you care to my aging aims,
Darkened by time’s toil
Against that which is bad?
For my gravity is open,
My heart beats pure
In a bloom for your entering,
And I am trying
To hold my pen and my hammer
As I build for tomorrow.

Work Begun (day 3026)

This is my work that I’ve begun
Raspy hands and sore back
Set the tone for my inner heart
Mending this land as best I learn.
Wood’s been slung
Blocked and chopped
Stacked all up for winter’s dry
Cows are fed, so too the goats
That call out now to greet my cheer.
So then come the neighbours who
Have each their own spread
Landing as they do
Amidst the green atop the ground
Growing as the earth’s own.
This is my work that I’ve begun
Recollected by the stone hearth
Fired and warm, and dinner’s on
Longest night, shortest day.

Path (day 2874)

I didn’t open up the pages
To find you dying alone here
I woke my warrior
In day steps, dreamily
Dancing to a beat
Of ten thousand drums
Upon my back and shoulders
Remind me of my ancestors
Who never had a chance
Reminding me of my heritage
That grew up too quick
Reminding me that I am a warrior
No matter which path I tread upon
For it is not the footsteps
That lead a path away
It is a heart that leads the footsteps
Upon a path so virtuous
Making freedom a deeper thing
Truth of unimaginable expanse
And I am there, animated
A page I forever open
To step my beating heart
This path I know is mine.

Growing (day 2783)

I don’t walk with a swagger
I’m not a callused hand
I don’t wish for stars
Or four leaf clovers
I sing with a guitar that holds a tune
But my voice is held under water
In a rusty tin can
So I sleep in a cold corner
With a sore back on my side
I run out of gas
When I’m driving too fast
And my knives all go blunt
So my pencils aren’t sharp
But I’m still trying hard
To grow something again