As New Wings Fly

Too young some souls are taken from our sight,

Too soon before the lungs of life have filled,

While we remain, it seems, to question why

Their beating hearts by chance or fate were stilled.

But who am I to say what time is right

Or understand the depths an angel delves?

Though maybe, searching, we, as new wings fly,

Remember what they taught us of ourselves.

 

This poem is about the sad circumstances when we lose those close to us, particularly when that loss happens sooner than we expect. While providing comfort for those remaining is paramount, the poem's words are more focused on thinking about how those people who've been lost might still be with us in some way, helping us to see how to move forward and better ourselves.   

Selfless

Selfless –

Lacking a self,

Without a self –

Is that truly what it means?
Perhaps not exactly,

For when you acted selflessly,

To be one on whom another leans,

That act defined the self you’ve come to be.

 

I thought this one might work well for Mother's Day. It began just by thinking about the word "selfless". If you compare with other words with a similar structure - say, "clueless" or "lifeless" - you might think it means something like "without a self" or "not having a self". But actually, I think it's more about recognizing, valuing, and loving the other "selves" in the world around you - and that becomes a defining feature of who you are. Of course, many parents do this all the time.

Between Two Choices

Caught, perhaps un poco paralyzed,

Across this space perceived as pure potential,

Where either pathway taken

Might bring adventures new and change essential.

A whisper then – “awaken” –

Faintly heard from somewhere up ahead,

Its true direction still disguised,

I step, to see which way my heart has led.

 

 

Just this past week, I made a pretty big decision - I decided to accept an offer from Syracuse University to be a teaching professor there in environmental engineering. I had offers from two schools, and it was an extremely difficult choice. I think both options were good, and I was leaning toward each one at different points in the process. To some extent, it just came down to what felt right in my heart. I wrote this poem a couple days later.

Parts of a Whole

Some part of me is tied to part of you,

Wrapped up in all your rising rays of sun,

Dependent on the days your time has spun,

To wander through a wider field of view,

And every tide that’s come and gone

Has brought a boon unlooked-for through the dawn.

I didn’t know the world’s made new

When part of me is tied to part of you.

 

This poem focuses on how we can start to see things in new and different ways when we connect with other people, as we begin to understand how they see the world. What's become ordinary to us may appear in a new light if we're able to perceive it from someone else's perspective.

The Dove's Descent

The dark descent the dove goes down

To come and claim his coveted crown

Transforms the flow of folly and fear

To hope for heaven’s harmony here.

We trace his trial to a trembling tree

And think, with thunder’s throes at three:

Would sorrow’s storms and struggles cease

If people prized his path of peace?

 

I've been traveling a lot over the past several weeks and am now starting to settle back into a rhythm of writing. This one definitely seemed appropriate for Easter. As with many of my poems, I didn't start out with this theme in mind - I was more focused on trying to see how much alliteration I could pack into every line (and apparently the answer was quite a bit). Eventually, the Easter theme (maybe more precisely, the Good Friday theme) started to take shape.

The Borders of Ourselves

What are you thinking?

Can I ever truly know?

Even if you tell me,

What unnamed thoughts remain below,

Beneath the threshold words express?

And so, your thoughts stay foreign,

Unless somehow our minds extend

Beyond the borders of ourselves, to blend.

 

This poem explores the extent to which we can truly know and understand one another. Being aware of all the random thoughts that occur within my own mind, it's difficult to see how we could ever arrive at a similar level of awareness regarding the thoughts of others. If we're not able to do that, is it possible to ever truly know someone as we know ourselves? I don't know, but the poem ends with the hope that it is possible, because perhaps, somehow, our minds go beyond what we can rationally perceive or quantify within the physical confines of our own heads - extending into other places where they can truly come into contact.

When Golden Flowers Fall

When golden flowers fall

And silver stems decay,

Their leaves of jade go floating

Where all things pass away,

For riches may enthrall,

May glitter for a time,

But never will their treasured note

Outlast the final chime.

 

This poem makes the point that, even though material riches may seem a bit more long-lasting than a flower's quick decaying, they still diminish over time. They are ephemeral, just like anything else in this life, and when our lives do come to a close, those riches will be lost to us completely. Personally, this idea makes me think that the world should focus a bit less on money and markets and prices, and a bit more on other things.