Here Comes the King

My little prince, my brother

swimming in a football story

of battle and athletic glory

back from sports practice with our mother

Blue eyes roam a crackered page

then ascend to meet my stare

pulling oxygen out of the air

doorways to a nearing age

My surprised heart is turned to mince

My mind jumps and my soul sees

those blue castles staring at me

Where is my little prince?

He has slipped off into nothing

And those traveling blue eyes see

through season and through century

From those eyes stares a striking king

I read those blue eyes like a book

and distant drums throb in my chest

and beat, beat, beat for a coming quest

A future unfolds as I look

I see a long, respected reign

a time of conquest and success

but also prideful recklessness

and cold defeat and loss and pain

Violent battles and crippling war

Atlas's great shoulders ache

A kingly heart threatens to break

asking what he’s fighting for

But in the ash a phoenix stirs

Wisdom is his long-earned prize

A lifetime behind those blue eyes

to share as the world slowly blurs

My little prince, my brother

whose hugs always feel like goodbye

who holds an ocean in each eye

is becoming some strange other

Blue clocks in their twin tune sing

tic tic tic-Time’s running out

So give a cry and give a shout

March march march-Here comes the king

The Watchers

The darkness is fuzzy

and the shadows are soft

Like God tethered storm clouds

to the floor of the loft

The two small, silver moons

capture me in their gaze

like sister lighthouses

setting darkness ablaze

These aren't the only moons

I catch another pair

staring from the darkness

at the foot of the stairs

The cats stare in silence

I wonder what they see

wonder what they look for

when they're looking at me

This seems to me the time

when fiction runs its course

when fantasy takes hold

like a juggernaut force

These cats could be wizards

or monsters in disguise

or shape-shifting sentries

or cunning, evil spies

The mind will do strange things

when one's alone at night

Imagination squirms

and fear is at its height

I'll let those cats be cats

I'll let their small moons glow

watching with some purpose

that I will never know

Sad Bird

Sad bird

With lonely eyes

Like dying trees

With thin, gray feathers

Like skeletal leaves

With crippled wings

Like broken clocks

With an empty beak

Like a beggar's hands

Pecking at the grimy ground

For remnants of life

For what you lost

Abandoned by your flock

They turn away

Look away, look away

And we won't have to see

The truth

And we can hide

From obligation

From love

There's nothing we can do

The ultimate lie

The lovely denial

The escape

But I cannot turn away

I cannot close my eyes

I cannot abandon you

Not you, sad bird!

I have nothing to give

I have so much nothing

Take my nothing

And make it everything

Take my hair

And make a nest

Take my eyes

And make them teach

Your eyes to be happy

Take my bones

And make new wings

Take my breath

And make a breeze

Take my hands

And make a tree

Take my voice

and make your song

Take my heart

And make the sky

And fly, fly, fly!

Happy bird

Expectations

To expect a mountain

but receive a stone

To feel so united

and then so alone

To set a kite flying

and see how it soars

But someone else’s kite

is faster than yours

To build a grand palace

made of hope and pride

To see that it only

was real in your mind

Humility is not

letting defeat prevail

It’s a choice to be glad

when you win or you fail

Alone

A fear I once thought

had fallen away

tickled the soft walls

of my heart today

Yet the thing itself

the object of my fear

was not what urged

my blind eyes to tear

What squirmed in my mind

what quivered each bone

was the thought of having

to face it alone

Miracles

Miracles

Oh, mankind, we are blind!

They happen all around us

But we expect fireworks or magic

We look for the glaring, the great,

The fantastical!

And we forget the simple

The common, the unappreciated

Should the greatness

or the scale of something

determine its value or worth?

The world will tell its pretty lies

and its terrible, hideous truths

So we’d rather accept the lies

than take the truth

and try to make it better

Don’t let reality

-or fantasy-

steal our little miracles

Our smiles, our words, our life!

And our beautiful love

Reality twists even love

and fashions its counterfeits

Reason and science

scream their rules

and Thomas will keep his doubts

The world will shout its structure

and its chaos

and try to take our miracles

But miracles will always exist

for those who recognize them

Defeat

Not a hanging word

Not a sighing act

Not a shameful flag

Not a sword crashing down

It lingers in the eyes

Eyes like broken glass

Eyes a lazy gray

like cigarette smoke

swirling with the embers

of fading flames

With drooping lids

like lonely curtains

closing out the light

It rests on the hands

like a shadow glove

Hands with pencil bones

and grandfather lines

that whisper stories

It whistles out

with every breath

It tears the soul

like a knife through a sail

A sobbing farewell

Goodbye! Goodbye!

Like falling through

a sea of sheets

thin and soft

But it is not a bullet

Nor a dagger

Not final nor concrete

The wise can wear it

like a gliding cape

to give them wings

and fly to victory