there is no blood

down that gravel road,across the yard,and into that old house.she walked barefoot,across them kitchen floors,down that long hallway,across the floor to the bed.she walked barefoot,between them garden rows,out in the fields,down through the pinesto the creek.she walked barefoot,down them hospital halls,down the aisles of the church,out in the cementaryto the grave…she walked barefoot,into the arms…

and waves….through battles againstforces unseen and unknown….through night and day….through want and need,through living and death,through prayer and doubt…through hope and hopelessness….carry it high, carry it always!the torch that can only be litwith human kindness!

with a tiny hole in the bottom,connecting to the ground.the poet is a prism,seperating colors from black and white,then drawing black and white from colors,dissolving and evolving.the poet is an illusion,that looks and smells like home,redefining distance by closeness,finding the familiar in a stranger.the poet is an orphan,a messenger, and a thief.bringing you a lit…

a perfected human being,letting go of selfand all grasping…one with the truenature of living…compassionate?yes…. you cannot be onewith all that’s around youwithout living compassion!allowing questions,shining the light,but the path isyour own!

for all that breathes…for life itself in allits constantly evolving forms….for every moment,for every casual brushof a caring hand…for the individuality andthe differences…for in the differenceswe find sameness!not to changea rainbow toa mountain…a hawk intoa turtle….but to take eachas it is… realizingits beauty and its worth….respect!knowing that what you feel,i feel… what you need,i need…one…

you’re alltongue andgroove!you salt my desirelike no one else can.hidden beneath layersof self-imposed hurt,and walls you built,hiding from yourself.you rage against the stormsof life, your hand quiversat the wheel!i wait; a small birdon your windowsill….for time to bring you backfrom the land of the dead!