*Waiting for Warmth

the water is running

 as I stand before the mirror 

waiting for it to warm

 to wash, shave and comb my hair

waiting, too, for something else

a coldness in me to go 

in the light of a love  

that won't run out as I grow old  

in this winter a stillness stirs  

my eyes pool 

a spring clears my way  

washing me with tears

*Jerry Schroeder, Cap.

Seeing through the blood

In one word, tears flowed as blood 

spotting my face, my flesh, my outer garb 

as ev'ry inch of reputation built o'er years  

washed down the drain of history.

Truth will do this to you 

when the mirror's cleared of deflecting jell 

when scabbed sores drain clean of pus 

stored o'er the pain of covert sins.

Truth will be this as a word 

of sorrow for deeds in ignorance wrought 

or curiosity in search of light 

for in blindness humans fail  

are clowns in sad-face stumbling in the ring 

searching for some treasure hidden in the soul 

or resting 'neath layers of a burdened heart.

Truth's a word of freedom from the crucified

a dirge rising from the fallen blood 

a song for the sinner and the sinned 

beyond barren musings of a faulting mouth 

for it's seeing through the blood that counts  

that lays the path for a story's telling; 

there the Spirit soothes the rawness of the shattered soul  

reflecting rays of the exposing Sun.