Oblivion

The demons lurk around me, surround me,

creeping in the darkness,

in the quiet of solitude,

inside me they hide,      

and wait to over-come me.

I run, wrestle, try to escape, to chase them away.

But still they come,

like bad dreams,

the night-mares I have

when I am awake.

Reality comes too close.

I seek oblivion, my refuge.

I pursue it everywhere.

Finally it comes to me,

slips over me like a blanket,

the demons are purged.

Gratefully I rest,

and am safe.

Waiting

At midnight I sit among my candles and incense,

music and wine, waiting.

I think of you driving in the night,

and I wait for you to come to me.

I hear you at the door, before you are there,

and then you are, and you come inside.

You don’t have to talk, just lay beside me

I hold you and you sleep in my arms.

Every night I wait, every day I wait,

for the day that you need me,

the day that you want me,

the day that you love me,

and I wait for you to come to me.

MISSING

The word MISSING scrawled beneath the photo-copy of a girl’s picture

on a pole at the corner, a block from the river, in a town that’s empty

on a weeknight in winter at one in the morning.

It is a town where lost and wandering souls go to remain lost.

Where one goes when one is missing and wishes to remain that way.

RUSH

The rush of blood in your ears

your heart is pounding

jumping from the bridge

or driving fast at 2am

playing chicken with a north-bound train

your head is buzzing

you can see lights out there in the darkness

the rush of death approaching fast

and out of control

the tidal-wave of release

when the danger passes

and your body has flown by

the end at the speed of sound

the sonic boom

still ringing in your ears

magic key

Driving south in the heat, talking to a bearded Hitch-Hiker, I flash on the Lake.

The way we used to fish with balls of white-bread on the ends of our lines.

Quiet on a Sunday morning, while mass was being held in the chapel across the street.

I remember the way our soda bottles would collect sand on the outside,

and some always ended up in my mouth,

mingling with the Coke or Root-beer or Orange Crush.

When we took the bottles back we’d get three pennies,

spent on bubble-gum.

Those bottles needed to be opened with a magic key.

Be Thou my Vision Revised

Be Thou my Vision

(A traditional Irish Hymn, Revised by Diane Awenydd-Evans and Megan Moore)

Be Thou my vision, Oh Lord of my heart,

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.

Thou my best thought, by day or by night,

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true word.

Lady I serve thee, Thy voice have I heard.

Thou my great Mother, and I Thy true child.

Thou in me dwelling and I with Thee, wild.

Riches I need not, nor man’s empty praise,

Thou mine inheritance, now and always.

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,

Oh King of creation, my treasure Thou art.

Be Thou my refuge, my comfort, my home,

Be Thou my dignity, be Thou my throne,

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my vision, Oh Lady of all.

Candlemas

Light the Candles one by one

Cold the Earth, but warm the Sun

Seeds beneath the surface swelling

With the snow-melt, daylight growing

Cold the winds but warm the Sun

Light the Candles one by one

In my heart the fire’s glowing

Winter into Spring is going

Warm the Earth, and warm the Sun

Light the Candles one by one