I experience renewal vicarious as it is and purity enters into my soul I experience the exodus the shifting of my focus toward the bright lights the love blooming transcending the baseness transforming into newness I experience colors changing blending, braiding the drawn lines fading away away with the disconcertion the moral desertion I savor the experience the blinding enlightening renewal that is unknowing, though not accidental healing, though not medicinal breakaway, though not spiteful I anticipate the experience the awakening, rising up down with our diseased hearts and minds the end of it all now Utopia will come I experience renewal I experience it piece by piece every time I see the love connecting dots from one to another and the bright lights glow, rejoicing Vicarious as it is, I experience the renewal
How to escape, I posed, Amid manic conversations With myself over nshima and ndwio. Relics beseeched, Skeleton meals without laughter, And I could say It was the African dust That brought tears, And add lies to the table. So much better, the road, To run and seek fables. A land of second chances Despite a bitter ice storm, That encases the trees. And when the sun rose Over distant hills The trees were set afire, Crackling under the weighted wind, A glimpse of ordinary, Became transcendent, And I missed my turn. Now every road, Leads to a judge. Every building, The home of a jury, And the air here, Thickens in my lungs. Every breath as if underwater, But I resurface to a voice, Announcing a sign ahead, Leading to the border, Of second chance land. When I round the corner, I worry, will it be there? And if not, will I continue? Either way, should I care? Should I care, If this road is empty, And I am alone. I press harder on the gas, Not for lack of care, But only because, Until I find that fabled land, There will be no place, To rest my head.
Born and raised in Maine, USA by my Quebecois father and Czech mother, I find that I am just as happy swinging a hammer or working on my truck as I am at dabbling in photography and writing. It is often the Maine countryside that becomes my muse, although, thoughts of our backwards society as well as a hypocritical religious community sometime creep up. Often this appears as a desperate ache throughout my writing. An ache for true peace and an agape (unconditional) love. This, I believe, is basic to the human heart, and most can relate to such emotions. However, this yearning begs for true change. I write all this, but will I change? Will I truely adopt that Christ-like agape love? Will you change? Perhaps we should...for as Gandhi said, "We must be the change we wish to see in the world."