Night Echoes

The night
Won't save
You

Or anyone really
But especially not you

It is
The moment
Of death
Of the echo

There's no salvation
Not in death
Not in the night

Only an echo
Only a repetition
Something played
Over
And over
Something
That won't
Let you sleep

Until death
Until life
Is gone
From the endless
Repetition
The echo
Of salvation

But the night
It certainly won't
Save
Anyone.

Still Waters

I woke this morning

with the awareness of you

lying beside me

your arms around me

your breath on my neck

your heart beating in mine

deep in the center of all that I am

You run deep through my veins

mingling in warm blood

quenching my withering thirst

flowing endlessly through

the basis of all that I am

Always there

Through unstable events

Through mitigating circumstances

Through life and death

in me and through me

and all that I am

Father

We see him ageless now, but ancient,

with senility assumed,

because we skulk around

behind his back in alleged secrecy,

squirreling away these

f r a g m e n t s

assumed as something lost --

Finders keepers after all

and if you snooze you lose ...

Does he really never notice?

This coercing...

This cajoling...

This childish clamoring for more

While we curse this chaos

and call it's creation coincidence

refusing all responsibility for it's reality

or repair...

Somehow it feels just like forgiveness

when we've thieved only to waste, watching

all appreciation slip away in grains of sand,

within these missing moments fleeting

in a gift we'd rather steal, as

we're all stupider

than we've

known.

Yet

in his

wisdom he

allows it -- leaving

minutes unattended -- in this

lesson carefully crafted, then ignored;

letting yet more fall, he entrusts delinquent

stewards with a whole new day we've surely

stolen, in all this careless waste of time.