Scars

We all have them
In different places.
Maybe we don’t remember when
We got them.
Mystery bruises
That appeared the next day,
Even though it really didn’t hurt.
A nick here or there,
Paper cuts
And other annoying things
Faded by time.

But I have a wound
That is no mystery.
I remember clearly when it came.
The time was hard,
The hardest I’ve ever known.
And this scar,
It hurts to touch it even still.
I wince whenever I see it,
And the pain stabs my heart.
But I fear that over time
The pain
Will begin to fade,
Leaving only a tough, callused scar,
And I will lose all feeling.

Creekside

(For Damon)


In the middle of a crowd
You can get alone
            Just to listen.
            Just to be.
You’re taken away to a quiet place.

            Barefoot
You step on stones made smooth
By years of cold water
That trickles down from up the mountain.
Sure, deliberate steps
And a spirit that is still.
            Skipping rocks,
            Collecting pebbles,
Thrilling at the feel of water
As it tickles around your ankles.
Little things you see
            Fool’s gold,
            A small snake,
All manner of interesting insect –
Things that go unnoticed
By we who admire the water
As we pass by and say,
“Wouldn’t it be nice to stop and stay
            Sometime.”

            You’re alone.
And God can talk to you
Because you have chosen
            Just to listen.
            Just to be.

Profile

While looking through photos
Posted by a mutual friend
I saw you.
Not you, really,
But your name tagging your image
Among the smiling faces
From a reunion for the Class of …
It doesn’t matter.

Because when I saw your name,
All I saw
Was my middle school tormentor,
The one who knew my every weakness
And even created a few,
The one who named me after those weaknesses,
The one whose voice remained inside my head
To discourage me
Long after the end of the school day.

I have hardly thought of you
For years
Only if I happened to drive past your old house
On the way to mine.
And I feel certain
You would never remember me.
(You likely forgot about me
The moment you got off the bus
Each day.)

Curious
I found your profile
And was surprised.
I saw not a pimple-faced bully
But a man.
A husband, a father,
A successful entrepreneur,
A friend of many.
Photos of fishing trips,
Children, puppies, your new home, and date nights.
Lists of favorite things,
Some the same as mine.

I won’t request to be your friend.
But it’s nice to be reminded
That anyone can grow up.

Servitude

The best of servants are barely seen,
Rarely heard.
We quietly come and go
And are only noticed
When a mistake is made.
If we dare to be absent,
We are not missed –
Only the task we left unperformed.
They do not see us,
Look into our eyes,
Sense what we feel.
Eyes down
Quiet steps
Hushed voice –
Do not disturb the deserving.
For them is the dinner prepared.
In their honor is the party given.
We wish them good rest
As we turn down silken covers
(Mint on the pillow, the sweet life)
And slip up darkened stairs.

In our humble quarters
We turn down our own beds
And fall quickly to heavy sleep
Knowing not to expect a mint.