I remember as a young boy loving Memorial Day
because of the small parade in our town Martins Ferry
honoring those who died serving our country, and
the family picnic when family members usually at war with each other came together, and
how the holiday symbolized school would soon be out for the summer, and
how the sun lingered and dallied much longer
allowing us to play early and late in the day, and
how we felt eternal like childhood was forever
If somebody asked you
what’s your story–
What would you say
What answer would you give
that’s completely unrehearsed
Without presupposition
Unconditioned
Absent any pretense
Just being–
in the gentle spring breeze
Steadying us
Yet blowing us away
Like the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine
we feel things at times
that go beyond words
exceeding that something inside
that wants to express
yet we know
deep down inside, we know
that we’re alive–
feeling beings–
sensing our way through life
we never know when
it might come back to us
an old high school photograph
could whirl us back in time
helping us remember what we forgot
at times, things we never knew
had become a part of us
it’s always in the silence
when the mind is still
and the heart is free to roam about
mending itself
knitting back together lost parts of us
forgotten things that long to be remembered
giving back to us
that sense of who we really are
martins ferry boys
three adventurous bodhis
never far from home
white blossoms, red leaves
……plum tree celebrating spring
…………………..the neighbor’s cat dies
all seeing death know
……it explains life’s true drama
………………………tough act to follow
tulips in full blown
……painted flowers all about
……………gray skies this morning
