Recently I wrote a poem for musical composer and friend, Brad Fowler, entitled, “Mirror Anima”. The piece premiered at the Missouri Music Educators Association annual conference, performed by the Kearney High School Bel Canto Choir, and directed by Jason Elam. Below is the poem and a recording of the performance, followed by a little note on the meaning of the poem.

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I am a felt sense of life,
an attempt of articulation
with a cursed tongue
and no end in sight.

Tethered to wonder and fright
a delusion of divinity
I seek nothingness
and shadows of light.

Survival is a given
so I must ask another question:
What is the difference
between a mystery and confusion?

my fears, incense compressed
through countless moments of forgotten vulnerability,
burn in the roaring fire of our hearts,
the smoke, a reminder of my fortitude,
the beautiful scent, a celebration of Love

melting into you, with you,
we enter a presence that needs nothing,
yet beckons us to live and love,
invites effortless hope,
a play of tears and laughter,
and smiles that could warm the sun

Light releases its purpose
to play and dance on your skin,
a newborn doe finding its legs in the snow,
jumping, leaping in that moment
when fantasy kisses reality…

Life clings to your hair giddily,
swirling ecstatically, pretending,
for once, that no one is looking,
and dresses itself in your wonderment…

Imagination sneaks away from dreams,
to catch a glimpse of the world through your eyes,
whisper loudly amusing ideas
and laugh with delight at each passerby…

Joy forgets the needs of the world,
if for only a moment,
to make its own music from your lips
and feel what it means to be born…

And my heart takes audience to you,
receiving the gift of your beauty.
Hear my love – applause for an encore,
another night with you…

all roots plunge toward an unfindable center
sharing a home in a vast unspeakable mystery
that finds its name countless times each moment
in the most ordinary of faces,
hiding behind the illusion of control,
and whispered in intention

I’m hanging myself
and every time I talk to God
the rope gets a little tighter
burning only when I resist…
jumping up and down on this chair,
waiting for it to crack,
we share a good laugh,
at just how wobbly it all is.
If done right, I’ll bleed out from my heart
and his mistress will receive me
in the floorboards made from the coffins of saints.

my heart casts a shadow on a trail of goodbyes,
silence writing unanswerable questions in the gap between us,
but I must keep facing the sun, blinded by it as I may be…

The death of love is a distended heart,
an aching sunrise stretched over time,
and a sky in mind with no earth to touch.

Another death, an implied beginning…

My strength seeks your beauty
just as the Sun longs to know
what the moonlight feels like
on cool summer soil beneath sleeping flowers,
to settle in the piercing blue horizons in your eyes,
and to feel what Love is
when you dream, ensconced in starry skies.

Love is my lungs
breathing paradox,
filtering contraction,
wisdom passes ceaselessly into my being
as surrender births my movement…
continually reborn anew
my eyes become the sunlight
that awakens the untended garden in your heart,
the shadows of seasons no longer remain for us to seek retreat,
so take this timeless moment
to finally
Breathe.