we say we did not choose to be -
the us we are.
we denounce the labels that define,
yet scribble words from strangers on documents of presume.

we stand alone in front of wishing wells.
imagine life redefined. 
and yet hold tightly to the coins of change. 
what purpose - 
consideration? 
will it matter in the end the option - 
not chosen? 


if -
in fact - 
this life is merely prelude to the play of forever, 
why spend wasted time rehearsing lines no one will remember? 
after all - 
words cannot open doors designed for touch. 
more sensible to knock in silence.
persistent affirmation of conviction.
intention realized by feel - 
rather than imagined - 
simply heard.

i will surrender –
allow silence to enter the realm of my consideration.
not that i’ve emptied the vat of thought.
rest assured there is chaos yet to corral –
imaginings to share –
inferences to propose.
in time.
just not tonight.

i would suggest,
however,
opinion kept in check.
sometimes more is said with silence than ramblings of un-intent.
perhaps a conversation –
cut short –
left fragments of suppose scattered along the floor of deliberation.
or,
possibly,
attention was not paid in full –
recipient left holding hands full of not quite enough.

so eagerly we hand out labels of indifference.
cast stones of unconcern.
yet fail to recognize our own misappropriation of bias –
fall victim to the malady of assume…

words.
taken out of context can magnify,
or crucify.
peace and war initiated within the same collection of letters –
assembly,
the defining variable.

so much of who we are finds animation from our expression –
dialect –
inflection.
spoken,
read –
punctuated and pronounced.
emotion born within the simplicity of a syllable.
intention misconstrued.
passion pursued.
ignorance and genius separated ever so slightly.
fascinating –
the way we communicate before learning how to speak.
initiating interaction outside the paradigms of language.
and then –
acquiring intelligence –
we articulate our thoughts –
bring to life suppose and possibly –
as we struggle to declare opinion.

and yet –
regardless our intention –
fail to say exactly how we feel…

have faith –
we say –
actually insist.
throw suppositions of know into arenas of disallowed.

our words –
intended bandage for wounds suffered without reproach,
from hands presented as gesture of Christian accommodation.
and while we stand safe –
conveniently clear of any ricochet of insinuation –
the animosity we preach to disallow collects in puddles –
swallows our hope –
quick as ripples of faith on a placid sea of indifference.

what then?
when winds of chaos blow and there is no refuge from the storm?
while liturgies can be heard above the roar of the waves –
still we shiver in the cold –
clinging to the rope of inability –
drifting without option of release in our ocean of discontent.

while there –
just beyond the breakers –
calm wave-less sea.

peace we can only imagine –
as we’re dashed without mercy on the shore of doubt –
broken like shells –
empty of all but echoes of prayers –
unanswered –
inconspicuously –
unheard…

poems.
thoughts splattered like visual graffiti on the walls of imagination.
some acute.
some profound.
some with less than good intention.
most – often overlooked, 
unless stumbled upon –
whispers of wisdom drowned by the shouts of tempestuous mediocrity.
and here,
on the shore of my life’s ocean,
footprints ending in the surf,
shells –
hollow – 
withholding memories never shared…

questions unanswered.
a lifetime of contemplated what-if’s.
presumptions –
insinuations –
allegations substantiated?
or denied?

at what point in the evolution of our us,
did we stumble upon the arrogance of autonomy?

signs of welcome we hang outside our door.
enter here!
come inside!
take shelter from the storm.
but just as the rain sets in,
we pull the plug;
no room at this inn…

how sad,
to find at this juncture,
closed doors.
when with such little effort the lock could be removed.

what’s that?
i thought i heard you saying prayers – counting blessings.
surely it was just the moaning of the wind.
obstinate –
one would presume –
the image of yet another self-proclaimed demagogue sequestered in a sanctuary of self –
while just outside the door –
clinging to the tattered remnants of hope,
a lost and lonely soul –
just within reach of salvation,
cries –
unheard.
or perhaps –
simply ignored…

unable –

sad word –

thrown carelessly into the wind…

inability –

chosen –

not a consequence,

rather,

a decision…

you take from me all that you need –

leave hulls of hope scattered on the floor –

and i am just too weak from wanting more

to sweep,

or even care!