Posted by restorel66 on November 10, 2009

Between us, on a tabletop of glass,
a working hand becomes a hammer.
A man wants his way.
He won’t take no.
Blood, though not spilled, boils.
Shards ring out and sing
the ways we will not mend—
how the heart, like a fractal,
repeats a pattern of breaks
and splits when magnified.
My heart rages. It pushes blood
along a crooked line of strife
until I heed the rattle-crack
and attend the bang of anger.
The embittered rackets rise until
the broken pieces lay at rest between us.
Posted in Aesthetics, Education, Entertainment, Life, Poems, Poetry, Relational Strife, Relationships, fear, violence | Tagged: Anger, blood, brittle, broken, Conflict, cracks, demand, fear, forgiveness, fractal, glass, hammer, Heart, patience, peace, pieces, Relational Strife, rest, restoration, shard, sounds, strife, violence | 2 Comments »
Posted by restorel66 on September 19, 2009
Death, you feckless enemy.
In vain, you took two children.
You cannot hold them
anymore than I can grip
the wind. We are good parents.
We will endure miscarriages
and family absences.
We long for the ones taken,
but you are defeated.
Their names—Speck,
and Pickle—were given before,
given because, given, and
you cannot claim them.
You were uninvited, but we
still took our seats for dinner,
with our living kin,
to pray, to see another’s face,
to consider life in a womb
and form a space
between our digits—About
this big? Yes! Can you believe
it!?—We do not want for grief.
O Death, you made us weep.
But here, beneath the Wing,
you may not reach. You’ll never
grasp the strength that forms
the frailest tiny living
human beings.
Posted in Aesthetics, Education, Entertainment, Life, Poem, Poetry, faith | Tagged: child, death, faith, Family, family dinner, frailty, grief, hope, kin, Life, love, miscarriage, parenting, peace, promises, protection, salvation, strength, The Lord, unborn | 1 Comment »
Posted by restorel66 on May 20, 2009
Making enemies requires effort.
Slack and rude won’t accomplish it.
These are anticipated and
Not nearly despicable.
You must listen…carefully.
Respond. Look at whom you
Address. Give them the benefit
Then give it again.
Play. Wrestle. Don’t mention
A good deed you did. Dress
In honesty. Delight in Peace.
Expand space. Build a bridge.
Persist! The betrayers will arrive.
They will despise, and you will
Be dismissed. Clenched, their
Face will form a fist. But
Making friends is a cinch! Find
One who is equally chafed by
Your enemy. Together, take aim,
…Steady…Fast you will remain.
Of course, that friend is like honey
That turns bitter in the belly.
A true friend will always be
Your potential hard won enemy.
Posted in Aesthetics, Education, Entertainment, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Relationships | Tagged: belly, Betrayers, bitter, Bridge, Enemies, Fist, Friends, honey, peace, Play, Rude, Slack, Space, true, Wrestle | Leave a Comment »