Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 99

Support System

Who would’ve thought

The need would arise for

The solace of caring

In empathy’s eyes?

 

You know. You’ve

All been there

One time or another

In tragedy’s aftermath,

Quick to discover.

 

The gathering round, the

Deafening sound of

The silent travail

Where no comfort is found.

 

But comfort takes time

And a shoulder or two

Or three or more

Before peace might ensue.

 

It might be a look,

A tangible tear,

A simple. “I’m here,”

Whispered softly in ear.

 

And thankful should be

For this harbor, this port,

This rallying system of

Loving support.

 

It’s Okay

It’s okay to let go…

Even though your heart cries out

To cling with every ounce of

Fitful courage you can muster,

“One more hour.

One more day.

One more precious memory.”

Knowing that without you

Life would surely

Lose its luster.

 

Through the pain

Your brow unbent,

Unfading smile

Etched on your face.

So adored, my haloed hero,

If only I could take your place.

 

Asking the travail be finished.

Longing, yearning not to go.

So afraid to leave behind

The precious few to pine away.

Worried for your one true love,

A ghost ship lost without a sail.

Don’t fear, my love.

We’ll meet again.

Don’t worry now.

It’s okay.

 

Waiting to Go

I’m ready.

Been ready seems like

Hours ago.

Now sitting,

Now pacing and

Waiting to go.

 

If we’re late

(Which I hate)

The blame is not mine.

Rock steady,

            I’m ready

To make it on time.

 

I ask,

            But you task

Just a few minutes more.

So I wait

(Which I hate)

Til the sweat starts to pour.

 

But I must confess

That any duress disappears

When at long last you show.

Who cares if we’re late?

You were well worth the

Wait and the worry of 

Waiting to go.

 

Making Memories

It didn’t seem like much at the time,

Just a simple outing on

A ho-hum day.

Winging the moment could

Scarcely cover it

With sunshine inviting us

Come out to play.

 

“Hey, Ho!” Coos the docile dove.

“Come share my morning song.

Fly by my side as adventures ensue.”

We seek out the old and familiar

To cheer us or

Drift chasing rainbows with

Brash derring-do.

 

And the treasure unearthed

Is not squandered in mirth,

Rather tucked away somewhere inside

Until we reminisce

Of the fine times we miss

And the memories we wear with pride.

 

Socializing

Bands of bustling busy bees

All hovering round the honey hive,

Deposit golden nectar in

Her long and layered filigree.

Stepping over and around 

They flit and fly from one to next

Bound to networks unintended,

Unimagined to degree.

 

Born on instinct,

Second nature,

Thinking but an afterthought

Fraught with mindless chitter-chatter,

He said, she said, they said, we….

Bounding round to meet and mingle,

Chasing schedules round the bend.

Won’t you stay a little longer?

Have another cup of tea.

 

Bound by lot a social creature,

Needful of discourse and touch.

Never meant to be an island

Hiding in an endless sea.

 

Quiet Music

Melodies linger as

Harmonies soothe

In the bosom of eventide’s

Gentle repose.

The fluttering violins

Butterfly softly from

Flower to flower

Tickling the ear.

 

Who painted this portrait of

Sweetest quiescence 

(Lost in warm remedy)

God only knows.

Coaxed as the winding stream

Flows by the willows

Softening sorrows,

Quelling all fear.

 

Choirs of angels breathe airily,

Blending harp strings and flute

Til the aria glows

In a world where the mind

Can only bear witness

And naught but the spirit

Can easily hear.

 

Falling

Feckless fear is a wretched companion.

Fear of strangers, fear of loss,

The quivering fear of being alone.

But worlds come undone

And time relents meaning

When the canon of gravity bullies its’ reign.

 

Quickly,

So quickly, hard objects propel

To strike supple flesh

And break brittle bone

With a feeling more like a

Film in slow motion,

Played out in agony,

Pushed to the pain.

 

So unlike the youthful thrill.

The exhilaration of unfettered flight

Through billowing clouds,

Though common sense might

Speak to the mind to declare it insane.

 

The wisdom of age grows a

Widening respect for 

The art and the need of

Remaining upright.

For the mischief of falling

Brings dire consequence.

A poor worthless beggar

With nothing to gain.

 

Breathing: It’s Not Overrated

So often taken for granted,

This grand involuntary deed,

This giving and surrendering of

Life-spring’s first and living’s last.

 

Little more than afterthought,

Hardly noticed,

Seldom lauded,

But oh, so very necessary

For the now,

The when,

The past.

 

How many of you shall I be gifted?

Tis only one who holds that key.

So, I shall savor every one

As though it were a sweet repast.

 

And when the play is over

And all the players are applauded,

Tis you, the star, shall rise above

And I but a player in the cast.

 

If There’s Anything I Can Do

Hard times wield an angry hammer

Without conscience or discretion. 

Blind side strikes with

Steely stealth and noxious

Brutish attitude.

 

Havoc grabs the rein and leaves the gypsy

Lost without direction,

Traveling in a downward spiral

Into silent solitude.

 

Comes a voice in tainted warning,

Ominous in its inflection,

Mettle-gauging caterwauling

Bent on testing fortitude.

 

Subtleties and undertones

Defy all efforts of detection

Until the veil is lifted

So the truth is unsubdued.

 

And if by chance my being there

Can offer solace or protection,

My hand is held in offering

If there’s anything that I can do.

 

Comforting Words

Pain can possess

And redouble its sorrow.

Faced with a loss too enormous for knowing,

Feet fail

As backbones can’t carry the weight,

And eyes wash the riverbanks

To overflowing.

 

Silence sits colorless,

Listens only to itself.

No one wants to break its spell

With sullen gush of mindless voice.

 

But grows a need for duologue,

A word of comfort from a friend

Framed by simple elegance,

The proper time. The perfect choice.

 

“I’m here.”

“Don’t fear.”

“You’re not alone.”

“We’ll make it through this dark unknown.”

“Come sit a while and reminisce of

All the good times you were blessed.”

 

Don’t let your thoughts in sadness dwell

As all around you wish you well.

The supple heart, in time, can mend

With words of comfort from a friend.