Ode to Deep Sea Fishing

-------Ode to Deep Sea Fishing-------

All that mock, that prideful plea,

pulls the pride from worried me -

akin to Old Men out at Sea

the fish that pulls my boat 

   is me.

The more I pull, the more I shout,

I'm further pulled from solid ground -

"I know," my Love, "I needn't doubt,

I need not drag this boat 

   around."

But pride's persistent inside my head,

"Let go the line and you'll be dead!" -

so I tear the sheets from heavens bed

to hide the wounds my fighting's 

   fed.

But fear knows not the truth 'bout death,

for I live and die with every breath -

the giving up, the giving in.

I cut the line. 

   I fail

      and win.

-------

Painting on Snow

-------Painting in Snow-------

We are given 

eyes 

to know the light as it changes

and hearing 

to remember silence.

Without Winter there would be no Spring.

And the old story goes on.

Redundant with reverence,

upon birdsong 

and flowers.

Like drops 

on a 

canvas.

-------

Growing to Give Up

-------Growing to Give Up-------

Another year older 

and closer to a child.

Emptiness has become by dearest friend

and wandering, 

the path to my Soul.

Letting go is like a shovel taken to the rubble of fear and time;

when hands take the tool, digging becomes the easy part.

For we are diggers by Nature,

believers

and children always.

-------

At End, a Beginning

-------At End, a Beginning-------

Songs of the weathered stone

have made their way 

to our soul 

in the fruits of the earth.

A child smiles

and our world crumbles.

A flower flowers

from the Winter's garden.

Every song dies 

upon its making;

and every seed 

to sow anew.

These are the gifts

that hold us true.

Those who have

let go

are now free

to sing.

-------