Lugh’s Garden

Do you know that hailstones fall,
Are blown back up on the wind,
To re-freeze and,
Fall again, each time getting
Heavier, and heavier,
Until finally, the wind can’t
Lift them up, and they
Fall to earth?

Life is like that,
One day your spirits are up,
Then down, then up.
Each time getting
Heavier, and heavier,
Until finally, your heart can’t
Hold them up, and they
Fall to earth.

But if you have
Love,
If someone really cares
About you,
They help you lift those
Spirits,
And then they don’t seem
So heavy.

When I was a child, I was
Often confined to the house,
Bound by steel and leather
Meant to straighten a bent frame,
Legs, twisted into
A caricature of a boy.

Beyond my window, was a
Ball-throwing, tag-playing,
World of laughter.
Hiding, seeking, orchard-robbing,
Children, living lives I could
Only watch.

Now I am a man, still watching,
From the other side of my window,
The laughter, and the loving,
Wishing I could run into the path
Of someone, who would yell,
Tag, you’re it.

It’s like watching a movie
I’ve seen a thousand times,
Wishing I could be the hero,
Wishing it was my silhouette,
With hers, under the tree,
Just before they role the credits.

In springtime, love is laughter,
A pair of teasing eyes,
With promises of things to come,
Each day a new surprise.

A summer love is slower,
Long walks beside a stream,
A time to watch the clouds sail by,
And share a secret dream.

In autumn, love can gather,
The joys that time has grown,
And put them by for leaner days,
Those moments spent alone.

Then winter, with its changes,
Falls hard upon the heart,
And loves that swore a summer vow,
In sadness, often part.

While some loves follow seasons,
And chill when days grow cold,
There are those loves that never die,
Nor ever can grow old,

Some loves have become seasoned,
Throughout the passing years,
By clouds and dreams, and promises,
And lots of falling tears.

This love will always be there,
To answer when you call,
Or take the time to pick you up,
If you should ever fall.

So take some time for seasons,
The loves that come and go,
But know a deeper passion lives,
Not touched by sun or snow

Some people seem to have it all,
You know, a mouthful of cake, and
A brand new one sitting there,
Just waiting for the knife.

Other folks, sit there waiting,
Hoping to get a taste of frosting,
Maybe a nice gooey, end piece,
But all that’s left, is crumbs,
And they get stuck with the dishes.

There are moments,
When a scream of defiance,
Fist thrown at the heavens,
Would be the action of my heart.
I want to grab the Fates with both hands,
And shake them until they acquiesce,
Giving me the life I want,
Taking the pain, the loneliness,
The nights spent staring into
The darkness,
Silently speaking her name.

I want to run naked through fields,
Dive headfirst into unknown rivers,
Daring the thorns and rocks
To touch me,
Fighting to win a prize
I’ll never hold.

Instead, I sit here,
Pushing words around a
Paper replica of life,
Drawing passion from a well
Deeper than the heavens,
Pouring love into a garden,
And praying that it will grow,
Knowing the harvest will
Not be mine.

There are moments,
When the scream of my soul,
Is like the roar of a storm,
Howling over oceans,
Only to die in the desert
That is my life, here, now,
Silently.

My blood still pulses,
Filling dreams as strong today,
As they were before the
Graying of my body,
Before the light in my eyes
Became mostly tears.
My hands still contain caresses,
Yet to be given.
My lips and my tongue
Can still form gentle words
And soft kisses.
I am still a man.

Alas, the Fates have caged my passion,
Left the fruit of my dreams
To wither on vines, now hidden
Behind a younger forest.
Even the winds seldom reach me,
With the whispers I still long to hear,
And in my heart, I scream at the world,
When they come upon me,
Those moments.