Mothers Day

Those strange days:

the fire underground...

the eerie brotherhood...

an oasis of peace...

We grew up

searching for what we missed

for the end-time redemption

when ev'ry portion of being

is handed down on gold plates

melting as the years eased by

Don't know what to feel

Each bone is chopped gravy

sliding about on orange crates

empty-spaces of our hereafter

But some promise will slide into view

and we'll touch the longed-for paradise

I sit here weeping for what was missed

longing for the ne'er to be enriching

tears tearing up lost dreams

and my spirit wond'ring when to fly

That time, that time has arrived

and I'm ready to step empty from walkabouts

to find a new space for living

allowing some peace to settle in