Photo: Brian Federle, “Night”, 2014
the
beat
steady;
constant hum,
music of days to
night fading; the right note, only
song you know; sum of your days, falling, falling to night.
so
go
to the
center, to
the black place to wait
for Him. Don’t call out in fear for
there’s nobody there but you and He, so simply be
and
hear
how His song
fills your darkness with
light; smile at Him, your familiar
bright friend, and no longer will you fear your emptiness.
(23 Dec 2013)
since you’ve been gone the days
are silent
except for the rush of wind
in our apple tree.
See how the fruit hangs
heavy, pulling low
the branches;
ready.
so I’ll wait in the shade
of soft July
and think
of you.
Morning fog
caressed
my winter tears
as unseen geese
(noisy gaggle)
crossed the opaque sky.
Things well hidden
confuse
my fragile faith,
so when bright, piercing rays
broke through
this lonely vale of tears
I thought it was only the sun
not the golden light,
desire of my fleeting years.
Photo: Brian Federle, “Open Gate” Pacific, 2012
Night falls
slowly in spring
through trees newly flush
with unfurling leaves.
Birds rush
through swaying limbs
to newly-built nests,
to lives yet to live
as day fades
to shimmering silk,
as stars gleam with
celestial milk.
Across the fading valley
The silver bay shines,
effulgent edge
under twilight hills.
Confined
flat waters
cut a thin line
beneath dark heights.
Saw-toothed ridges
rip thin clouds
to ragged shreds —
the plunging sun ignites
the resplendent light
of love
for this sad, winter world.
Photo Brian Federle, Hawaii, 2016
Spring fills this dry land
With life, yet
I cannot see your face
or embrace you with a father’s love
as I did when last you filled our lives
with your easy laughter
and beautiful eyes.
Shall I speak to you, tell how
small birds gather
in the budding apple tree
hungry no more,
filled with joy?
I cry out to you
and the startled birds
fall into silence,
Let me tell you, then,
Of my new life without you.
Deep in my side I feel endless pain
where my heart once beat;
now I merely breathe
emptiness.
My son, oh, where have you gone?
Call to me from the brilliant heights,
for deep in darkness I lie
crying to see you just
one more
time.
(for Brian Federle, 3/4/86 – 3/25/17)
The goodness of March,
rain, strong winds,
buds swelling —
the everyday
resurrection.
The tree
we planted last year
on the first anniversary
of your passing
is blooming,
its small, pink bursts
quietly exploding
in the green glow
after the storm.
I smile to see it —
thin, wavering limbs
climbing to the sky, defiant
in the March wind.
Are you smiling too?
Photo: Brian Federle, Pacific Sunset, 2014
rush of waves, surging
ocean, atmosphere,
west wind filling night
with the sound of earth
careening through canyons
of empty, endless space!
(14 May 2013 – 2 Jan 2019)
After Christmas
life persists, though
the bare trees are
dancing with death,
their leaves ripped
from living flesh;
disincarnate,they wait
for the storm.
So how, then, can I endure?
I live that day every day,
clenched fists pounding
my penitent heart, crying
Mea culpa! Mea culpa!
What kind of a father am I,
absent at the hour of your need?
Oh, forgive me, my son!
Surely tomorrow
the rain will come.
(28 Dec. 2018)
Photo, Brian Federle: Pacifica Sunset
Sudden light
flares in the eastern sky.
Bright clouds burst
and consume the void
with glory.
The newborn child,
wrinkled and pink, warms
in his mother’s embrace
and waits for the stunned world
to exhale.
(23 December 2012)
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