Meant to be

looking for light and tolerance
dark ball sitting in stomach’s pit
longing to direct willing youth
warn them away from mistakes
made when tired was unknown
womb not heavy with experience

mother’s worry that well-worn paths
still hold sharp stones that wound

young men not compliant types
to boyhood warnings and direction
throw caution as broken boomerang
laughing at monsters under beds
no need for bandages on scrapes
as life chisels and defines into
the men they are meant to be

A Friend Named Peter

we always seem to wonder

what lurks in the shadows

but what lurks downstairs

in the painted pendants glow

awakened by a noise that

doesn’t fit in my dreams

i glance toward the crack

of my door slightly ajar

is it worth getting up for

in the predawn hours

but that noise again, a laugh

i peek through the crack

like a child spying on santa

something wondrous lurks

my 2 grown boys and a friend

nearly a million legos spread out

the sound of man-sized hands

raking through the tiny landmines

visions of boats and space crafts

visions of creative minds at work

visions of my grown sons as friends

visions of men playing like children

somehow wiser for the effort

i fall back asleep smiling

Joy of a Moment

moments to minutes

minutes to hours

hours to days

days to years

years to a lifetime

but a moment

can stand on its own

 

like the moment i cradled

my first son

my second son

my dead son

my third son

lucky for me

moments can stand alone

 

i can recall the scent

the sounds

the colors

the feel

the moment becomes timeless

 

i can cradle each of you

in a way that does not

demand i let go

demand i move on

demand i say goodbye 

i can feel you in my arms

instead of miles away

instead of in another’s arms

instead of in dust returning to the earth

timeless moments that are mine alone

 

some might call it denial or

a silly coping mechanism

i call it the joy of a moment