Sad eyes, sing on.

Sing for the ears of morning

so that they may

know this beauty lost to light;

the longing in

an arid cry before springs

caress the dust

and mute a thirst-fed spirit’s

wordless sighing.

Children skirt the edge of dawn

dancing gaily

on ground where a dark durge lay

wounded, silenced,

formless in the palor of



Follow me.

I know where the music is.

Come with me and sing.

If I miss a word, which I’m apt to do, don’t worry.

The melody sings itself.  You’ll hear it, too.

What matters are the wordless harmonies we’ll make,

and whether we can find a way

to move together, tightly held.

They sent a warning starting out

that I will stumble –

ever falling forward into nothing.

But they didn’t tell me

(because they couldn’t know)

there would be a song for singing, dancing

with anyone who’s not afraid

to hold my hand and meet me in the now.

Nothing won’t be nothing

if we are one and bravely go there.

Love and Joy will give that place a name.

Thank You

Thank You for the tangle which unwound me.
Thank You for the darkness where You found me.
Thank You for the chains with which You bound me.
Thank You for the grave in which You ground me.
Thank You for the cross through which You crowned me.
Thank You for Your voice which does expound me.
Thank You for the Love that will surround me.
Thank You for this singing all around me.

We’re Here!

In my tear

you saw reflections of yourself

that made you laugh.

Then I started grinning.

“Horton Hears a Who!” you said,

and sparkled like a little one heard.

We chuckled together ’til nightfall,

having found the hidden cache.