My love

Love grips me
And I grip it back,
In a stranglehold
Of passion
That aches my throat,
That chokes back tears.
To lose your love,
A great, big fear.
Are you dying
A slow, slow death,
Or will you bravely
Reach for joy
Despite your pain,
So much to gain
Despite the rain
Deep in your heart,
Deep in your thoughts,
To look,
To look
For joy?
Love grips me.
May it grip you,
And heal your sorrows
And give you strength
In a grip of iron;
No, a grip of hope,
Gripped by beauty;
May love grip
Your heart with joy.
Come,
Grip love with me.


CY,

My Friend

I feel God’s love in your beauty,
The beauty of your thoughts,
Like the beauty of your smile.
The beauty of your kindness
Sustains me without guile.
Like the silhouette of trees
Your beauty speaks tranquility,
The quiet joy of His eternity.
Your smiles reach out and touch me
Like the beauty of fresh, white snow.
I surely know God speaks to me
If there is anything I know!
You help me see His truths of life,
As through the candle’s glow.
Thanks for your strengths and weaknesses
So I can see mine too,
Accepting life in gentleness
So He’ll help us see it through.

Cy, 198?

Gratitude

Salus gives and we take.
This is something to celebrate.
When we're down, you lift us up,
Making sure that we have a full cup.
With generous spirits of thoughtful care,
Positive growth, for us, you dare.
It's with heartfelt thanks that my world's not black.
So with God's grace, I give back.

Cy, June 14, 2010

MOVING DAY

Grey and misty is the morning,
A fall chill in the late september air,
But the chill of excitement
From the chorus of geese
Lifting off
The safe waters of the bay,
The summer survivors
Headed south,
Leaving their carrion family members,
Washed on shore;
Are they soon forgotten?
Or do they mark
Next year's stop-over?
With their scented graves,
To be annually remembered,
In passing through
As they thrill us through and through,
Wondering, in this war of terror,
Will it thus be evermore?

Cy, Sept.,26, '01

Misty Morning

Heavy morning dew dripping,
Like rain, to earth, falling.
Morning mist rising
From the silver-blue water,
Like misty breath.
Like geese rising
From the water,
As our spirits rise,;
Heading home to hearth
Heading home to cry in mourning.
For the blood soon to drip on earth .

Cy, Sept. 25, 2001 (post 9/11, NEW YORK)

Meditation At A Grave

Am I dead too,
Amongst these bones?
I breathe still
While they do not.
As I read the past
Upon these stones
Can I truly say
That I am alive?
Give me strength
To do Your will
And I will know
That I am alive.

Cy, May 13, 2007, Edited: Feb 18, 2010