NOBODY WANTS TO LISTEN

I have such grand thoughts
That are lovely to me,
But nobody wants to listen.

Can I be so wrong 'bout my heart's myriad songs,
When nobody wants to listen?

Could I have evolved from some alien race
Of some other time or some other place?
When I look in the mirror my face is your face,
But nobody wants to listen.

So I sing to myself,
Put my words on a shelf,
And hope in some space in
Some life I may find,
An ear and a heart
From some kindred start.

Oh, so long we'll both speak, smile,
And listen.

March, 1996
June

TATTERED

On the outside I look strong and whole.
But on the inside, like an old flag,
Exposed to the sun and wind,
I am Tattered.

My colors are faded, my cloth is thin.
I am torn and weakened and threadbare
By days and nights of life's elements.

I long to be lowered to the earth...
To be enfolded by the Strongest Arms...
To be held to His breast.

That the wind of the Spirit,
The wind that mends and strengthens rather than wounding
And draining,
May enter my every fiber.

Thus may I be unfurled in the strange
Sun and wind of that world,
My colors changed to unspeakable hues,
And my finished pattern revealed
To the timeless skies.
 
1994
June