A twelve year old boy
stands covered in ‘mud’
What the plasterers call
cement
His Grandfather came
and offered a job
For each hour,
he’d pay fifty cents
The buckets were heavy,
the scaffolding high
As he kept those mortar boards
full
And at the end of that summer,
more man than a boy
With new confidence
—his future to cull
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Home
At nineteen,
I wanted to live in Colorado
Till that first weekend I spent
in Cheyenne
At twenty-five
I wanted to live in Montana
Leaving Yellowstone,
as Glacier took my hand
At thirty,
I wanted to live in Alaska
Within Denali,
where the Kodiaks roam
But as the years have progressed,
I discovered
All I ever wanted to be
—was home
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
To Remember
My currency, my letters,
my legacy, their toll
Inscribed within the moment
—perpetually retold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Each Calling
Sleeping in the open air,
reconstitutes my soul
Walking through an empty space,
my spirit free to roll
Looking once but hearing twice,
each calling from above
Seeing clearly deep within,
—new messages of love
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
The Only Game
Looking forward,
looking back
Both now futile,
both distract
Past and future,
which to blame
This moments truth
—the only game
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
The Grip
Holding on to a memory
Holding on to a dream
Holding on ever tighter
Holding on—holding me
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Fading To Nothingness
Logic and
Mysticism
Connect
When knowledge
Becomes
The absence of
Self
A man in the
End
Says one
Final
Goodbye
As birth and
Death
Fade
—to nothing at all
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
Unchained
What strips away
often more important
—than what we chase
What we discard
often the magic
—in winning the race
What we forgive
often the difference
—between joy and pain
And what we love
God\'s given key
—to a life unchained
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)