The Escalator

Looking at a picture of me and my son 

on an escalator in the DC subway system 

unexpectedly brings a kind of epiphany:  

That salvation is the relentless ascent 

of an escalator powered by the  grace of God,

but I have to get on it, maintain my balance, 

remain still, and let it carry me upward.  

My inclination to move will only likely 

send me heading in the wrong direction, 

yet even so there continues to be an 

inexorable pull dragging me heavenward.  

And something about this image gives me hope.

***

A Blue Tongue

If my tongue were blue 

I’d be locked in a zoo

with nothing to do 

but sit and stew 

in monkey poo.

  

In lieu,

my tongue is pink,

I do not stink,

not a missing link,

nor a fuzzy fink,

just a kid on the brink.

*wink*

***

The Shriners

When my sister’s back 

was crooked, not straight,

the Shriners came 

not a minute too late.

They trundled forth

In their little cars 

and paid the bills

like superstars.

  ***

The Last Day of School

It was the last day of school and he figured he wouldn’t waste his time sleeping for the rest of the summer.  Even as his parents dropped off to their slumbers and the sisters fell into dreams, he was out on the back second story deck pondering the universe, suspended several feet above the earth.  By starlight and moonglow he surveyed the endless cornfields and patches of forest stretching southward from his perch on the edge of the small town.

A groundhog trundled through some high grass along the fence line, but stopped and stood on its hind legs when it sensed the thin upright shadow floating above the field.  It was the boy who sometimes called out to him on sunny days.  He fled from other upright walkers, but this boy was different.  They would sometimes make eye contact and with his homey hole so near at hand he tolerated the uncertainty and strangeness of the situation.

The deer was less certain as it stood stalk still amongst the corn rows waiting for the boy to disappear back into his home.  It was also aware of the groundhog who took chances by standing man-like above the grass.  The deer thought it foolish and was certain the small creature would pay for it some day.  Better to stay hidden, keeping one’s ears upright and eyes sharp, sniffing the air.  The boy, like others of his kind, could kill from a distance.    

But the boy’s mind was not preoccupied with thoughts of vigilance or the need for survival.  He was imagining the possibility of tornadoes raging in the distance and whether there was life on other planets.  He wanted collapsible wings and a jet pack to launch himself from that deck into the radiant darkness.  He wondered if angels exist and if they knew he was looking to emulate them with fanciful contraptions.  Was flying synonymous with freedom?

***

The Precipice

I stand on the precipice

toes touching only air

as the chasm yawns.

Love will fill this space

but not by my efforts

alone, disconnected.

Can you help me God?

I want to take that step

made possible by faith.

And fly away from pain,

disappointment, pity, and

the need to be needed.

***

St. Maybe

With so much suffering in the world

one must find the consolations of

beauty and love, a reason to keep

going, the courage to shine like a sun

and dispel the darkness, but not with-

out struggling and, strangely enough,

suffering.  Maybe it is enough to be a

candle, a sputtering flame of whatever

kind.  Oh God, why is it so hard to do 

what is to be done, to be what one is

to be?  Hope.  Despair.  A saint, maybe? 

***