Where I am


as a whisper in a cave


as the color of vodka


as a seagull

on a city bench

no bread

too tired to fly


as the helpless leaf

falling from the branch



as the basketball court

you grew up near

no nets

paint fading


Is this me writing

or is this cancer?

it’s the cross I bear

and I don’t have the answer


Some more thoughts

In the final hours of his life

Jesus asked God

if there was any other way

besides the cross.


Then he said

if it be your will

I will follow it


We make so many assumptions

about death;

That it is to feared, a punishment,

visited upon our last breath.


We simply don’t know,

what happens in the silence-

so we assume it is to be feared,

and we cling with violence.


‘rage,rage against the dying of the light’

was a wonderful poem

but was of terrible insight.


To fight nothing and no one

includes death too-

as Jesus prayed in the garden

his faith in God’s plan grew.


He accepted torture

when we’re asked to accept a simple passing-

I now embrace the love of Christ’s plan

for me, for everlasting



some thoughts

“Christ, place me gently in the present moment, make me a gentle servant for your peace and love.”

So at the end of the day I go over things and see if I have lived the prayer I have written that morning. I’ve been very busy today and have shared what I can- a smile here, a joke there; at other times, it’s more like, “God, redirect my attention from wanting to eviscerat thee man in front of me in line at walgreen’s who is cashing in a fistfull of lottery tickets, the machine saying ‘you’re a winner’ each time. I disagree.

I don’t think being a spiritually –┬áminded person has anything to do with what we think; it’s the awareness of what we think. The observing presence within the mind growing in the mind- perhaps this is one definition of mindfullness.

Lately I’ve been feeling a hopelesness that just sort of hangs around me like a fog. My feet feeling like bricks; the clouded sky a portrait of doubt and fear.

Knowing that the cancer can spread at any time and the prognosis is terminal; the fear mechanism of my mind had been going wild. I wrote this prayer and it has helped immensely: “Christ, when I feel hopeless direct my thinking to how I may be useful to others.” That was a few days ago. I haven’t felt hopeless since. When I’m not looking for it, it’s there. When I look for it, it runs away.

I treasure the time I spend with God in the morning by the east end water, writing, meditating and praying. I write my morning prayer and get out there, living it to the best of my ability, knowing that in Christ all things are possible.

Today I’m excited to be alive, knowing that kindness heals all relationships, and no one heals alone, and thanks to you, i’m not alone.






Fear of death

is the shadow of the moon-

cascading into space,

out of reach, gone too soon.


We clutch and grasp

because we don’t know when or why

our number will come up,

in winter or July.


I wrote this prayer

this morning after meditation,

I wrote it with force,

and spiritual desperation:


“Christ, I’m leaving it all up to you– who I love, who loves me, and when I die. It’s all in your loving care and I walk away from the concerns, turning my attention to the task of living life.”

from the heart

I wanna die

where I was born-

for it’s lonely down here,

the quiet in the middle of the storm.


I wanna die

in that hospital room;

i’ve never been back

since 1973 in June.


I wanna die

and dream into my mother’s arms

in that little hospital in newton

and listen to her songs.


I hope the doctors and nurses

won’t make much of a fuss-

I wanna die where i came from

I’m not askin’ for much.


I’ll fall into the arms of something,

the great voice from above,

with just this one regret-