Free? To What Degree

I looked up from the stack,

written words bound in red, blue and black.

Moments captured and left on a page

stories of young and old, known with age.

There he was sitting quietly, up and out of the way,

for such a young one, not really much to say.

First thing that caught my eye were the braces attached to his shoes,

traveled to his knees, right below his denim blues.

A book lay in his lap, our eyes did meet,

as he watched me write on a small white sheet.

His feet didn’t touch the ground,

that chair a bit large for the young boy who sat without making a sound.

He took in all that was happening nearby

my mind and heart did employ with a quiet sigh.

 I wonder what he thought of those who walk unaided,

Is being “normal” overrated?

A gesture from someone who looked a lot like he

both feet on the ground, no longer, hands free.

I hadn’t noticed the rest of him there,

lying on the floor right beside that oversized chair.

His feet lightly stepped with the assistance of two more,

bringing a total of four feet on the floor.

He was across the room as quick as could be,

his voice chattered with anxiousness, something in the next room to see.

A sight of freedom as he entered through the big double doors 

a smile on his face, lifted him high up off the floor.

Birds that could talk and fly around,

making an unusually loud squawking sound.

Allowed to fly without any assistance,

Freedom came without resistance.


They..the boy and birds.. flew across the room as quick as could be

Feet off the ground, hands free.

A Painting…A Life

A painting, a life

colors…. mixed and unchosen

restraint and darkness…heartache expressed

a canvas…. sad and depressed


A painting, a life

colors…. scattered and released

uninhibited and random, heart sought  glee

a canvas…..happy but seldom free


A painting, a life

colors…..defined and chosen

blended and connected, heart tones content

a canvas…time well spent

Between the Lines

I reached out and You touched my cheek
there amongst the mortar and ground rattled explosions.
Fear and darkness threatened my heart longed vision.
Chaos ensued as I tried to cover my face,
needing protection from mine filled steps.
The odor of what was, lay all around me.
Death filled fragments of those who walked beside me,
intimidated my existence, shadows lingered.

I reached out and You took my heart
there amongst the smoke filled air.
It was hard to breathe; I struggled to inhale fresh beginnings.
Gasping brought an anxiousness that filled me until I was numb
and consumed with a need to survive.
Threads intertwined and began to wrap and weave
themselves around each of my chamber’s veins
in such a way that the rhythmic pounding replaced fear with peace.

I reached out and You took my hand
dragging me out of the black hole that held light captive.
Clinching and clawing my way through the tunnel of grief and sorrow
You brought me to a place where
an enlightened knowledge provision told me I was not alone.
Courage found freedom surviving within the shadows.
Your hands graven with my name, released me
into chainless beams that climbed mountains, never to be forsaken.

I reach out and You are there.


No Zigzagging

Crossroads… asked to wait,
a dash dares to meet.
Points found in two sets,
common and greet.

Does the agile line need to dance straight,
or can it weave or bound across a page?
For what circumstances,
do the lines need a stage?

Confidence found in parallel gait,
where distance puts perspective within sight,
strolling upon a path where destiny
brings an intersection to a moonlit night.

Straight edges deceived with thoughts of a life altered fate
upon a constructed grid where all has a place to be
ruled and a position of their own
where spontaneity isn’t allowed … never free.