Conditional

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We live conditional lives, bound by our history

Building horizons where none exists, ugly things

The brick and mortar bodies of our families

Our churches, politics; borders imprison

 

Safety, yet in constant fear, is no life

“Always share,” Mother always said

“Be kind,” the Father repeated,

Until no-one listened, even he; only words

 

If I know you I may say hello, probably not

My world is small, but it is mine

I share; the Sunday collection plate

Pennies to the homeless on the street

 

Comparing, clawing, grasping, pretending

“Always share,” Mother always said

“Be kind,” the Father repeated

Until no-one listened, even he; only words

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Beyond Words

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These words, alien to these ears

Mine? What is “mine?”

What does that mean?

 

These words, of their own accord

Simply spoken, sometimes heard

They redeem nothing of their own

 

So little sense to them, symbolic

Of something, yet not real

Things without substance

 

Indicators only, never the thing

Images frozen in the grip of time

Never that of which they speak

Pointing to, but never born to be

Grace

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By the ocean she walks

Flowing grace

Soft darkness embrace

 

Free spirits caress

As gentle waves kiss

Under moonlit skies

 

A mystery of words

Released upon the page

That others might see

 

Beauty through her eyes

Emotion in her heart

Striving to be free

 

By the ocean she walks

Flowing grace

Soft darkness embrace