High Tide

The ocean pulls debris
from across the sea
landing it upon the shore
lying before me

Then the mighty waves
pull debris from me
carry it across the sea
to the shore of another's door

O deep sea I pray...
Take from me my heart's debris!
Engulf it within your belly's depths!
To fully feel your violent fury!

Energized by your abysmal currents...
Engaged in your stream of life...
Seize the bitterness, rage, and anger!
Spawned from the womb of lies and strife

If a cyclone it stirs to roar...
Let her dance upon your expanse!
Spewing her venom far from shore
So not to poison another's door

Once the ravaged vortex ceases...
Let it soak its wearied course...
Purified with sun and salt...
To inherit a new life force....

Yes, take from me my heart's debris!
Yet let it fulfill its passage
So when it beaches the opposite shore
Its toxic waste betides no more...

may 19, 2007

Photo by a Canadian friend

Today, 11/05/17, I searched for his poem on my blogs. I could have sworn I had posted it along with the context at the time it was written.

But, I couldn't find it on any of my blogs, in draft or already published. I located it in a different archive, not on one of my blogs, but without the context.

Short context:
My daughter and I went on vacation for a week to Florida. We stayed on the Gulf Coast for most of the week and spent one or two nights in Jacksonville and some time in Daytona. On the Daytona stay, we visited the Boardwalk at night.

The ocean tide was really high, verging on violent as it slammed the side of the Boardwalk covering the bottom steps of the stairs that descended from the Boardwalk to the beach. Daytona has a wide beach on which cars daily drive, weather allowing. I asked a local if this was normal, this ferocious high tide against the Boardwalk. He responded, "No. Only occasionally." He said there was a Nor'easter at work.

At the time I was dealing with anger and rage regarding hypocrisy and false accusations, or at least mistaken ones.

The fury of the tide expressed the rage I felt at the time, a rage I was containing.
That night, I penned the poem.

The whole process helped...

Feeling the sea receive from me, my rage.

The rage did get purified...

Eventually, into another form...

Tunnels

Monday, 10/30/17

Another day
In my ho-hum life

I'm in the hole
No
It's not a hole
It's a tunnel
Half-way into the tunnel

I can see the other end
A lighted oval hole
With the bottom of the oval cut off
I'm standing
As I stare
At this mirage in my mind

I know if I just keep moving
Forward
I'll arrive
At the oval-that's-not-a-complete-oval
And I will exit
Into the sunlight
Until the next tunnel

I have walked
Not ridden my bike
To this half-way location
In the tunnel
I have no trekking poles or walker
I wish that were true
In real life

I trudge forward
Slowly
Painstakingly

When I exit
Into the sunlight
My bike Olivia
Is waiting for me
I feel happiness
But also a sense of dread
Knowing there are
More tunnels
Wondering if these tunnels
Will ever cease

I get weary
On this continual path
That leads only to
The same-old same-old
I feel I make no headway
To anywhere specific
That I'm forever stuck
On this repetitive path

What if I am stuck
How can I learn to appreciate
What surrounds me
In spite of the constant trudge

Is that all life is
One long constant trudge
From one tunnel
To the next

In my image
I am alone
Very alone
A single human
Along a gravel trail
By a river

On the left side of the trail
A rocky cliff rises
Eight stories high
On the right are trees
Lots of trees
And a bank that goes down
Eight stories to the river
The river stretches
Eight flatbed trucks wide

What is my purpose
Out here alone
Trudging along
Alone

I feel so
Alone
And I don't feel
Hopeful

I have three more days off work
Until my six-week pet-sitting marathon
Starts again

Focus not on the marathon
Focus not on what you can't do
Because of your physical and cognitive
Limitations

For these three days
Choose that which makes you
Happy
Choose things that
Rejuvenate
That might even inspire
Hope

When others share their simple accomplishments
In daily tasks
Organizing, cleaning, errand running, socializing
Be gentle with yourself
It's understandable to feel
Envy

Counter the envy 
With joy in their joy
Remind yourself of things
You can do
Of which others would 
Envy
Cycling, driving, making your bed, dressing, pet-sitting
And your material needs are met

The dark days always
Cease
The light always
Shines again
As long as I am
Breathing

I hope my injections today
Help
They will
They always do

I've just got to hang on until
Tomorrow
When they kick in
And I feel 
Better

I prefer
Tunnels to
Holes

Lately, the bastard

I seldom poetry anymore
I used to poetry a lot

What happened?
Why is my muse so distant?

This timidness in my psyche
I do not like
I hide
afraid to feel
until lately

I know, I know
But do not want to admit
The damage that bastard wrought upon
my soul

Lately I've felt anger
Lately I've felt hatred
toward
the bastard

Then wondered if
maybe it's toward myself
for allowing the bastard influence
even after seven years

Fuck you bastard
I spit on the ground you walk
I curse your supposed righteous causes

I pray my soul can be freed
from this entrapment
and the muse can again
give voice