Clouds Without Water

crying ‘peace, peace’
when there is no peace

seeking justice without mercy,
touting freedom without choice,
demanding change without forgiveness,
and claiming love without truth

clouds without water
race across the mortal landscape
in the slipstream of the profoundly wounded

the illusion of a righteous downpour
lacking all that sustains the heart and grows the soul

while in the shadows
death still lingers
for those who hunger and thirst

A Born Stoic

rarely do I fill my cup of sorrow
to overflowing with tears;
nor do I roar at the pain
of loss or the injustices
that litter my path

I was born to face the
darkness from the same
measured self with which
I engage the light -
knowing each is a part
of my journey

to passersby 
it seems indifferent;
to the soul I carry
it is acceptance 

acceptance that I will control 
that which I am able to;
and find strength and wisdom
in the experience of that which I cannot 

Witness

I watched
as it was led away
by what is

an outcast now -
a teacher lacking students
in a world knowing everything

it is said a prophet
is without honor
in their own home

the same could be
said of Time

I stand here
a witness
to the exile of
what was

knowing
it will never be again



Beholder

if seeing is believing
then truth should be assured;
but truth, much like beauty, 
is oftentimes obscured

the things that we believe
are in many ways ordained
by that which is desired
or that which is disdained

when avarice leads men
and hate is left to smolder;
lies can become truth
in the eyes of the beholder