the writeCast

congratulations

i saw your picture today,
you, with your baby.
i wanted to write a poem to capture how 
it felt, but, 
the feeling was unbounded;
no words could capture the
rush of thoughts & feelings.

the black & white image
was like a dream my mind's eye
has held for years.

years.

how strange.
no words - no words.
one word.

congratulations.    

morning still awaits

she can see now, but dimly,
like a road lit only by the pale light
of the evening moon.

for a brief, fleeting moment,
she held fire in her arms,
was filled with electric-passion.

she retreated. to safety.  to familiarity.
she retreated to her life that was,
sure that a brilliant morning sun
would reveal what she desired most;
love. 

she can see now, but dimly.
there is no warmth from the moon's radiance.
it is only a shadowy reflection of what morning
could have brought.

words

words; beautiful, inspiring,
words.

they live at the core,
deep within, yearning
to be free, to be penned.
words i hear; words i speak.
cherished friends for life.

words spoken today embracing words from yesterday.
modernity bled from antiquity healed in eternity.

the very foundations of the universe,
were set via the spoken Word.  
that mystery lives within me.
moves within my mind, my heart,
my soul. 

the words speak to me
and i write them down,
for you.

punishment for lack of change requests

i stare at my screen
not really feeling anything,
and wondering why my clock
is telling me it is 2:30am
and my head isn't down on
my pillow.

morning seems so far away
but resolution seems farther.

  

sun shower

i find myself, surprised.
fresh, clean, rain,
upon my face
as the sun streams down.

i find inspiration,
refreshing inspiration,
in your smile, your words,
your dreams, your voice.

thank you, for sharing.
the day's dawning is breathtaking.

overboard

is it the horizon moving?
lilting to the left, then to the right,
forward & backward.

dark waters, deep, cold, sloshing
against the horizon and the sky,
laboured breathing against a pale sun.

find me.
find me,
i am here amongst the water,
waiting for the warmth of your hand.

new york at night

i stroll through the streets with my eyes not knowing where to settle,
feeling the wonderment of millions before me and millions to come.

this city feels different than any i've ever been in before;
timeless, but not aged,
youthful, yet not childish,
dangerous, yet not frightening,
unsleeping, yet not tired.

clashing potential & kinetic energy humming, flow out through the organic streets.
lives lived amongst millions, against a city that can be anything,
anytime.

i am here with them, for but a moment,
but something of it's urban magic
rubs into me and travels home with me.

a few words on my father

I would like to say few words about my father.  Before I do though, I wanted to express my deepest thanks to all of you for your support during this difficult time and though this has been so important in the past few days, I also don’t want to lose sight of the fact that this support has been ongoing for us.  I have lost track of the countless hours that people have spent keeping my dad company in the hospital both here in Sault Ste. Marie and in Toronto.  The countless hours spent giving support to my mother, my brother and I. 
I know my father appreciated it and so do I. 

When my father’s condition was worsening, a friend of mine who could see worry on my face said, “Your father is a great man.”

I was confused because this person had never met my dad so I said, “You don’t even know my father.”

He smiled and said, “I know you and so I know the kind of man your father was.”

And that is really what I’d like to spend a few minutes sharing with you.  I had originally wanted to share some stories about my dad when I started writing this but I will leave that for us to share with each other through today and in the days to come.  I have reflected a great deal in the last weeks and especially in the past couple of days about what I feel was my father’s greatest gift to me. 

good-bye dad

i awoke this morning to the sound of the phone ringing,
my heart heavy, cold, broken even before i picked up the phone.

my mother was crying.
a nurse told me,
my father was,
dead.

now i sit on an airplane, flying home,
where i won't find my father ever again.

numbness spreads across my mind,
and i can already feel the tangible sound
of my father's voice fading from my mind.

i turn to the window and stare out at the clouds,
a single tear blurring my eyes as i whisper,
good-bye.

dark night in the hospital Y-wing

i sit in the chair,
by your bedside,
in the hospital.

you are unmoving, except
for your right arm, which seems to have
developed a mind of its own and constantly
brushes some perceived weight from your chest.

i watch you and know in my heart,
that you aren't staying for much longer.
that soon you will leave in silence.

i cannot bring myself though to say good-bye,
my voice sounds strange inside this sterile room,
it is strained against my constricted chest.

you mumble words to me and i tell you i am here,
that i am watching over you till morning,
and i recall you doing the same for me when i was a child.

i cannot bring myself to say good-bye though, to tell you i will miss you,
to express the honor i feel in having grown up as your son.

i say nothing, for fear that my words will give you permission to go.
i am not ready yet, so i sit quietly in my chair,
watching over you.