Old Coats



I wear the past

An old coat, tattered and torn

Long in tooth

I should have long ago shorn


Yet it finds me again

All this lifetime to be worn

Taken off sometimes

Never far from hand to adorn


I wear the past

This old coat, tattered and torn

Bones broken and bent

Memories tattered and torn






Sunlight through trees and I breathe
Cares of the day just fall away
A book cradled gently, words to believe
Speak and tell me what I must say

Yet I am still here in spite of it all
Alive to what I still need to do
And though I may stumble and fall
Somehow I will make it through




Cold Day Dreams


City sidewalk cafe

Crispy fried chicken

A sweet girl talking

All smiles and black hair full of curls


So familiar in her long black coat

Down and nylon

Is she the one serving?

Somehow I know her


From a dream or awake?

She asks about some children

As they play on the street

And I am awake


As she lingers within me





I am myself an idea

Nothing more


Writing fading words

From the deep before


Upon illusions page

The stories score


A life imagined

Nothing more.

Walk A Mile



Highway exit

Unshaven, un-showered

His dog, trusting as so many never did


Turn a blind eye and move on


Night falls

Surely there is a shelter

Someone else who cares


Judgment is cruel, justification


Care, when others refuse

But for grace

Small acts change lives


Love is free


A kind word, if nothing else, costs nothing

Compassion in a world so cold

Be the one thing of value in someone’s day


Save someone’s life.



Courtesy of: www.audreycharles.com

To truth, I offer what I used to be

This shell I once thought was me


To your grace I bow and offer this

This burden, which I will not miss


Be mine in act, in word, and thought

To take to heart what you have taught


And as I lay me down to rest

Embraced I know I am truly blessed


These are the last words I will ever say to you “brother” : beyond you is your choice.
I wish and hope that they ring in your ears to the grave.

Your “parents,” and mine were not the same.

I lived a childhood of abuses, mentally and physically, all who came before me can attest.
I will be blunt:

I was glad when these people passed. They were not my parents or any form of guardians that I remember fondly.

As a child in Ireland, I did more for them than they ever did for me. I lived a life of fear, abuse, and avoidance. You have no point of reference for much of which you talk about. The ones older than you have never filled in the gaps for you, I apologize for that.

I hated my parents: For a Father who worked with child protective services, I could never reconcile his consistent condonation of that in our home.

I suspect you were the vessel for all they realized they had done wrong. I hope they gained some grace from that.

You are my brother; I love you. We have shared so much, and while I walk alone into the future it would be good if you understood, even if only for peace of the past.