Standing Where I Once Stood
I
Standing where I once stood, once larked,
Fresh in youthful eyes and heart,
Exuberant games with friendly faces,
The only faces I had known, experienced,
Navigating the native neighborhoods,
Fragile recall. Mind’s tainted eye.
Homespun stories turn the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or valued by experience gained.
II
Standing where I once stood, once loved,
Racing to the finish line, grasping at
Victory’s promise, beckoning adventures,
Dancing in passion soaked joys, inviting
Life’s raw seed to raging ripening,
Fragmented heart. Sentiment corrupted.
Organic stories fuel the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or cherished by love’s bewitchment.
III
Standing where I once stood, once lived,
This dhamma body drinks Messiah’s blood,
Ravishing the earth corrupted heavenly
Host, that rages hot, then cold with each
Passing prayer, and tempts old bones to
False resurrection. Soul deceived.
Human stories spin the wheel of life,
Measured by ticking clock’s pulse?
Or rated by voluntary sweet charity.
© David R. Durham
Poet & Photographer 