Posted in Musings and Reflections

The Aging Artist Invisible

i awake from deep slumber with thoughts of yesterday’s sadness still raw in my heart and mind. the song break it down again comes to me here in the red light of a cold morning. the weight of what it means to be an aging artist invisible after years of work and where-what now to put my energy towards leaves me curled up in a ball. i have no answers. and yet there is something i think in not becoming overwhelmed by giant thoughts. break it down again. the big picture sometimes just gets bigger and bigger until it floods the senses and leaves me paralyzed by the unknown. break it down again. what are the bits and pieces of a satisfied life. what do i act on. no more sleepy dreaming. break it down again. this is more than success, ego, or legacy. i do not seek the spotlight, but i also am tired of toiling in the shadows. what is my forum. is it time for me to dim, or to burn bright with compassion, to fade into love for the other and leave my dying dreams behind. where can i find in me the beauty of decay.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree (Poems)

The Picture That Once Hung There

all that remains
on an old wall
is a discolored square
of a picture
that once hung there

a painting or large
portrait perhaps
of the builder
long dead
who poses with
family proud and fair
in a picture
that once hung there

the years have come
and gone
the light of the
passing days
reveals the square
of the picture
that once hung there

will my journey
leave an impression
inner light to
burn upon
this mortal wall where
like a picture
my life once hung there


Remember Me

It shows up on most websites I need to sign in to.

Usually right below the blank for my password.

A check box followed by the words “Remember me.”

After Communion several weeks ago, something has changed.

Now when I see that check box and those familiar words, I find myself hearing in my head the refrain we sang that Sunday past.

“Jesus, remember me when You come into your kingdom.”

The song refers to the words spoken by one of the two thieves crucified alongside Jesus.

I’ll admit it. I want to be remembered. Hopefully in a fond way. And perhaps as someone who made a difference in the world.

We live on in the memories of others, our immortality resides in the minds of those who knew and loved us.

Yet, the infatuation with legacy can become narcissistic and at times parylyzing, as if my life has already ended and I have nothing left to give.

God forbid that I become like that other thief who on the edge of the eternal abyss curses the One who holds the key to eternal life;

Who knows me like no other, Who fearfully and wonderfully made me, and Who continues to make me into who I am from that small beginning when I was knit together in my mother’s womb.

So when I click that little box beneath my password, may I remember that I reside in the mind of God and that is the only thing that matters, the only legacy I need to leave behind.

“Jesus, remember me ….”

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane

A Question of Progression

The wax of the linoleum has been scraped clean by the rock we use to hold the door open.

Its progress can be determined by the batik pattern on the floor.

Will my life leave such a distinctive print and is there a positive progression?