October 16th, 2015

Shaman - Horse

Poem - Awesome

A friend inspired me to write the poem “Awesome”. I am fortunate to witness the progress of a small handful of lives. In these there are hardships and joys. There are triumphs and rebirths. Most of all, there is promise of things yet to come. This poem is about one such person.


Awesome
Poem for Day 287 – 20151015

Dare I express my gratitude
for your place here in the world.
Could I whisper my compassion
for a soul so awesome to me?
I would compare you to a rose,
and praise your accomplishments.
This I do only with quiet constraint
as I flitter on the edge of your life.

Survivor of the winter harsh,
when dreams were dashed
and hearts were smashed,
and still you press ever on.
Rose yet to fully bloom,
promise made to the world,
beauty held in reserve,
this is how I see you now.

Performer brave on the stage,
pressed to share your heart
heavy with wisdom of times both hard
and happy beyond the pale of life.
Conveyor of the muse's gifts,
by lyric wrote and note plucked.
Resolute in the bard's journey,
destined to share so much more.

Dare not the shadows to intrude
on a person shone in God's light.
The inspiration of so many ones
that walk along side of you.
If you must pass through the valley,
know that you are not alone.
Winter's breath, beginning steps,
these will pass and you will bloom.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
Shaman - Horse

Poem - The Journey Back

The poem “The Journey Back” may or may not be autobiographical. Only those who have known me for a time can vouch for its veracity.


The Journey Back
Poem for Day 288 – 20151016

I. The Descent

I was called to author words,
but I would not embrace the path.
Madness was all I could relate,
and this I could not write to a page.
Would the world want to know
of a person who struggled so?
Insanity was not in vogue,
and to this I could not console.

Perfection was my only path,
to prove myself worthy of all.
The bill came due for my soul,
and I could not deliver in return.
Mistakes were okay for others,
life embraced by the fragile.
This I did not allow for myself
as I struggled to carry on.

I used to want a quiet death,
one in which I would fade away.
Life disposed after the struggle,
forgotten by those who stayed behind.
I'd be put up on the shelf,
or stowed away in the grave.
The only thing I asked of life
was to erase me from memory.

II. In the Depths

The prose flowed in response
to the demand to write everyday.
The letters sought a connection
to a world still estranged.
Friendships were formed in those years,
some still linger to this day.
Too often the madness did intrude,
and those brave souls carried on.

I sought beauty in possessions plenty,
the oddities filled some space.
Sadly the echoes still resounded
across the gulf consuming all.
To hold without letting go
became my way of grounding life.
This only achieved the mountains
of cold debris above my head.

The end beckoned to me everyday,
whispered cold promises of relief.
Nothing would be better than everything
blinded by sorrow and anger.
Still I plodded on, duty called to me,
things to do and commitments made.
Continuing was all I could do
while I waiting for the death's release.

III. The Journey Back

My words are not longer stilted
by walls erected to protect the world.
More of the self is let go
to illustrate the breadth of life.
The madness I might have felt
is held to task to illustrate
the common threads of living found
in the hearts and minds of other ones.

I find myself in humble mirrors,
reflecting back the deep flaws.
They were not indictments of a man,
instead they only show where I've been.
Roads traveled by too few other people,
but enough to convey that I am not alone.
They echo back sincere thanks
of my spilled ink shared with the world.

The end grows yet closer still,
but now it is by time's wheel turning round.
The reaper will have his due at long last,
but until then I have much to share with you.
I find comfort now that a crowd may form
to bid me farewell as I retire.
Remember me as the earth is turned,
the journey back has many forms.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.