Spirit of the Son

On your passage
Song of truth
Spirit of sweetness
Sighing cedars
Calling down this
Melancholy moon
Your presence strong
Voiced in loving chapters

There is a God
Your life told me so with
adoration carved
in Petoskey stone
We all will join you
Silver spun and drunk undone
We crumble as we breathe
But always, ever after, we remain.
Perfect imperfections

In a world made out of dreams.
Shall we run away
Shall we walk whispers
As others stumble over words
In stillness there is a message
An open ended invitation
Always available
Forever inscribed
His unconditional love of family
Scored with the red ink of love
Parted with truest blue blood
Reserved for a Prince;
a Son; a sweet, sweet spirit
Embracing his journey with God.

© June 27, 2009 In Loving Memory of Frank Ethan Ball IV

Insight

I could feel the poem coming,
forming somewhere like the tornado
that once blew over me in a dream

As we talked and my mind spilled all those details
all those moments where I couldn't see any clarity

At least I couldn't see what I didn't want to see

I always know what decision to make,
even when I don't make the correct one;
the direction taken is one I choose

and I know nothing means much when unexplained
I can't make you understand

Because I don't understand

and I still contemplate over the line outside my door
of people willing to be there
people wanting to hold my hand

isn't that all that matters?
to finish my story

I am much more than before

But the story doesn't end,
you see, and I rarely know why
I continue to be the navigator

The aviator without her wings
but somehow I manage to land

on my feet.


© July 2009