Invitation to Dream

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Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.
Emily Dickinson

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                                                          Photo by Brian Federle,  Night Sky, 2017

When I last saw you
Your eyes danced with joy
and You filled my life
With hope.

But now you’ve gone
beyond my pale sight.

Oh, feel how
the knife twists in my gut!
Oh, weep with me my stinging tears!

Then come with me
as this darkness descends,

and together,
Let us dream.

Before the Funeral

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Photo Brian Federle, Desert Mountain, Palm Springs Series, Dec. 2016

 

Mountains
surround me.

Black ridges
scrape the sky.

Raw lacerations.

Gone are the songs of
hopeful winter birds,

gone to the mountains
of the sun.

In the valley of the moon,
bitter desolation.

Storm

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Driving home
the rain lashes our car,
waves slash the road.

Like blood running,
red blurs stream
from tail-lights.

The anger of the sky,
grief unleashed
consumes all the world.

Hands clasped
on the steering wheel,
I guide us home

where we remember
you are gone.

Tears stream
down our window
panes.

Father’s Lament

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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 arms
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 joyfully
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.

To My Wife in Mourning

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bright day,still birds, black
spots on the blue sky, slightly
sway in trees, and wait

for winter to stay
or summer at last to come
like we’re waiting for

the pain to stop, death
to give way to the winter
sun’s soft, warm embrace.

(our son, Brian Federle, 1986-2017)

Deep in Grey

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Deep in grey
we wait
as black night drops
suddenly
and completely.

At the end of our day,
hope is measured
one careful procedure
at a time.

Night is not kind in winter.

Too early It comes,
and stays too long,

brings fear,
red eyes and stinging tears.

lit by red numbers
night measures our lives
one pulse at a time,
in dim blue bars
gleaming in the distant ceiling.

Clasping hands
In the fading day’s light
we wait
for one more

morning.

(28 Oct 2010)

Three Poems for My Father

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i

When I last saw you
Your hands were clenched
With a rage foreign to your voice
And you were rushing inward
Away from the moon, beyond the glowing
night
Of my grief.

Yet on my way home
I saw the moon rise.

Where have you gone, then, If not
to that land behind the moon?

ii
In the emptiness above the earth
In the terrific clashing of jet with atmosphere

I heard your new voice
I saw your new hands

Tearing at the cold, hurtling steel,
Casting off silk shroud

For dark soil
And even darker rivers.

iii
If stars loom too large
Is not my window too small?

(11/24/1980)