Robin

Some robins die in cages,
Though they mean renewal
To the world living outside.
Sometimes they get trapped,
Inside a home and seek escape;
But hit a revolving fan.
The world comes between
Their wings and the open sky.
But they are part of the world
Which has life and can die.
Reason is sung out by faith;
Hope may play its own tune;
For faith prays like the sun,
Hope fluctuates like the moon.
And robins try their best,
But life must have its say!
It may leave them free to nest
Or it itself flies away.

Bier

Strange how lifting
A body in death,
Though wrecks my back,
Still leaves me with breath;

But stifling
a heart break
Stops all air
my lungs make.

Your Calling

He meant nothing to me –

Except he was your father

Who turned you away

For being gay.

You did all you could

And I know you would;

Because that’s who you are.

Suffering teaches you

The value of death.

Seeing you do,

What needs to be done,

Breaking a pot,

Taking turns around the fire,

Lifting the water

And the clarified butter,

Like the body of your father,

Like I had done a few years ago,

Made me weep.

Abscesses linger

Of abandonment.

Wounds that have cut too deep

Don’t allow the momentum

Of life to fall back into joy.

You will leave by morning,

For duty, a calling

And a new suffering,

Time has chosen to employ.