Saturday, October 3, 2015

Gypsy blood

That gypsy blood pulses so
within the frame of all it knows
pushing, pushing, this way/that
looking for an exit point.

No door, no hole, no crevice, crack,
but still the search goes on and on
like one determined not to stay
forever in the dark.

Where is the light, where is the light,
and, yes, it listens ardently
but who can speak to gypsy blood
when confined so deep, deep, down?

The will to pulse grows weaker every day
so when you go on walk-abouts
spare a thought and prayer or two
that gypsy blood will find the door.

But time, that artful thing called time
may not come to the party
and that poor old gypsy blood
will simply cease to be.

Rest in Peace!

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Then and then

The spirit is gone from one who once
loved the morning light
and now forever there seems to be
a dark and deadly overlay
over all of this glorious life.

That overlay comes and goes
like gypsies who traverse the plains
with a touch here and a touch there
but no earthly place to call home.

Happily so it doesn’t stay long
in that place where the spirit once sang
but now it is known that when it returns
it’s darker and thicker than ever before.

Weighted down and no longer spry
it’s loath to move to another pasture
and so hard to push it out of the door
when presumed it too has a purpose.

But be like a gypsy, oh, dear overlay,
and move on over the hills
until you find a mountain of grief
that welcomes your deadly presence.

Then that morning light once loved
will lift up the eyes, heart, mind, soul,
and rekindle that gypsy spirit
so long hidden from view.

And then and then all gypsies will move
to gain a good view and better perspective
of all that the beautiful morning light
chooses to shine upon –

and the angels will join the spirit within
and sing and sing again and again!