WILL… a poem

When the momentum shifts

You’ve no one to blame

Take stock in yourself

And try to refrain

From saying words

You’ll surely regret

The clock keeps on ticking

On this, you can bet

Kill them with kindness

Or just smile and nod

Keep your distance from meanness

Don’t be a fraud

For when this time passes

Again, as it will

You can look in the mirror

And smile at God’s will

selective focus photography of man's reflection on a broken mirror

LEGACY… a dark poem

Kindred, don’t leave me

This melancholy, too, shall soon pass

Bear with these fragile bones

One last time

Before they are consumed

By the fires of no return

Pray for me

After the passing

Stay with me

Until the chill of the morning

Lifts its veil

Upon a new day

Then, carry on the legacy

Seek out truth

Hide your true self

When the time is right

Revenge me

And leave a legacy

Of your own

photo of tall trees during foggy day

IDOL… micro-fiction

Image result for stone idol of a child
Image credit

I should have listened but, I was tired and didn’t want to get up again.  The cries in the night are not unusual for an active-minded child.  Well, that’s what the psychologist told us.  “Go back to sleep, honey!” my wife said to me at 2:02 a.m.  Yeah, 2:02 will forever haunt me.

You see our six-year old daughter was a sleepwalker, night talker and screamer.  Often, I would wake up to a small figure cuddling close to me in the wee hours of the morning.  I’d typically throw an arm around the child and go back to sleep.  On this night, however, she only screamed, and my wife and I decided to give it a few minutes before I got up to go comfort her.  She always slept through her nightmares, and she never remembered them the next morning.

This one time… Oh God!  This one time I let here scream more than usual, and even the abruptness of her stopping should have warned me something was different.  It wasn’t until the next morning when I went to her room to wake her that reality hit me.  My sweet daughter was gone, and I knew in an instant I would never see her again. 

I was still crumpled on the floor crying when my wife came to check on us and see what the hold up was.  Upon seeing what I saw – she too crumpled.  After a time, we managed to get up and discuss where we had gone wrong. 

The old stone-carved idol we had found on our vacation to the Grand Canyon lay where our daughter should have been lying in sweet slumber.  The old figurine that once occupied its countenance had changed to that of a young girl.  I guess the old Native American man wasn’t joking with us after all.