John

Curled against the "dark friend," you fled the body.
Absent the King, the Lover did only what he knew.

With great courage, you faced this outsider, unwinding centuries of rotting "protection."
Finding, not the damaged priest, but the loving monk: your true guide.

for Bill

The artist stands frozen in his studio, held by the cords of unworthiness. "So much beauty to capture, how dare I put brush to canvas," he asks.

His heart answers: "Turn, turn dear friend. In the spinning comes the Beloved through your eyes, painting the world in each breath."

Soul fire

Your soul fire cannot be contained by past promises.

Throat, skin, fingers, burn with trapped intention.

Dip those hands in the healing stream.
All that you touch is eager to bloom.


Helen Klebesadel, "Poppy Field"

for Ann

Dear friend, once you made that loving sacrifice as the cannons shook the trenches, diving through the dust to shield your comrades.

No need today to jump once more on those sharp shards: in-drawing to the birthing place so much sadness.

Hold your light. Now that spirit can grow wise, stepping into that power cut short long ago.

for Wade

A young man walks the land. His gaze unwraps the colors, moves the wind, dissolves the clouds.

Freely gathering blessings, he manifests beauty and confidence in young and old.

for Matt

Your intensity is like a hawk's vision -- finding the crystal of light even in the darkest night.

Swooping and rising. Turning and riding the wind -- what do you seek with such focus?

Know dear friend that your wings dwarf any sky creature's. They are the sun and moon and stars we shall dance under!