If I Were Your Little Dog

If I Were Your Little Dog

(The musings of a man deeply in the dog house)

If I followed you home
Would you keep me ~
Give me a bath and
A nice juicy bone
To chew ~
Tie my topknot
With a little ribbon ~
Whisper words
Of love ~ and hold me
Against your heart ~

And I would be
Your little friend ~
Your comfort when
Your heart was sad ~
So happy just to
See you ~ even if
I see you ~
Ten times a day ~

We would be
Inseparable ~
For the few short
Years we’d have ~
And I would be
Content to be
Your best friend ~

Then I would
Never hurt you ~
As I hurt you now ~
Perhaps it would
Be for the best ~

Or ~ just perhaps ~
You could forgive
Me ~ one more time ~

I Walk Alone

My footsteps lead me to the windswept beach, where rain pelts down from a leaden sky. When last I walked these sands you were by my side, and there was nothing I could not do or be. You were the light of my life, the warmth of my hearth and my heart. I gaze at the distant stars and wonder which one of them is you, for I know you are not really gone. Your beautiful spirit has only outgrown its earthly envelope. Oh, but I miss you. I find myself searching my memories for the exact color of your eyes, the different textures of your body, and of your breath, so warm upon my skin. There is not a moment that I don’t remember, and I’m not sure if that is a blessing or a curse.

Why, oh why, did we choose to share each other’s lives for such a brief moment in this existence? Who could have known that Death would be so envious and so cruel? Certainly not I. I believed you and I were for the ages, never to part in this life or the next, and I am shattered still, though years have passed. And time does not heal my wounds, no matter how faithfully or how often I apply it.

Time, the most unforgiving and the most elastic element of our brief sojourn in this reality we have all created. Always Yin to Yang, dark to light, good to evil. For all time the center must hold and the basic Universal laws apply. And I must go on, cowardice and unbearable pain to be hidden and endured, and choosing Death the one thing you would never do or allow of me. You always had such high expectations for me. I find myself trying still to please you and hoping somehow you are watching me and smiling. And so I find your loving hand guiding me from beyond the world that I can see. Is all as you had hoped, and does the Light blind you, or can you face it smiling, now that you and the Light are one?

Unanswered yet again, now I must go. The tide is rising and the wind plays havoc with my hair, tangling the strands so that I can barely see. I have put it off as long as I can, the going home. Because your chair will still be empty and your favorite book is still on the floor by where your feet last rested, its pages rumpled from the fall. Your lion’s heart is stilled at last, your job all done. You have moved on, as must I, but I will remember and I will abide, till I can be with you again.

A Lover’s Prayer

The Parting

At a certain level ~
Pain has a presence of its own ~
This pain breathes into me ~
Without a warning ~ with
No time to prepare ~
And I am caught out ~
With no chance of escape
Or of evasion ~
No way to change the
Certainty in your eyes
Once more to doubt ~
I would have spared you
Had my body not betrayed
Me ~ and I know my heart
Is in my eyes ~
From here on the path
Lies hidden ~ and I cannot
See the stars ~
Will we go on ~
Now that we know
That now is all we have ~
Have we the courage
To live our love to its
conclusion ~
My love that I be blessed
To breathe my last
Here in your arms ~

Diminishing Returns

Will this be my path without you?

I have whittled down my life

Into ever smaller pieces ~

I have carved away the bits

That are easily spared and still ~

I find unnecessary parts to rid

Myself of ~ things that I will never

Miss ~ and then there’s you ~

I don’t know what to do with you ~

Do you end up in the discard pile

Where things that disappoint me go ~

Or will I make excuses for you

As I have always done before ~

Give you one more chance to be

The man we both need you to be ~

Perhaps it’s just that you have

Come to the end of my rope ~

And perhaps you won’t be able

To hold on ~ I hope you can ~

Save us ~ make me feel your love

Make my love for you live again ~

Shall We Dance?

Male & Female Western Bluebirds

The flash of a

Bluebird’s wing

The scent of the

Summer rain

And all at once

I’m swept away

Back into your

Arms again

Do I miss you?

Do I want you?

I think I’d almost

Give my soul

To have you in my

Life once more

To fill that empty

Aching hole

Shall we learn from

Our mistakes?

Shall we take

Another chance?

Nothing gained if

Nothing ventured

Learn the steps and

Dance the dance

Shall I tell you

That I love you?

Shall you say you

Feel the same?

Find at last our

Happy ending

Beat the odds and

Win the game!

Serenity

Perfection

One’s youth is a happier

Time by far

When viewed across the

Safely intervening years

And though my hands

Could build a bridge

To take me back to fev’rish

Passions and swift tears

There is a wisdom which

Comes with age

Gleaned from battles fought

And battles won

That whispers for the heart

Alone to hear

Perfection cannot be

Improved upon

Journey’s End

The Book of Memory

When my body grows too old to care

And I live only in my memory

It is not at a blank white wall I stare

For there’s your smile, undimmed by age, before me

And when I scan the book of memory

From burning youth to wise old age

Your lovely face smiles out at me

From every page.

World Unexplored

Crimson velvet sin.

Do you see what I see? Look down, look down!
A whole drowned world at your feet.
Green become emerald, lush and shining,
Red turned to crimson velvet sin,
Everyday lights translated by rain,
And look at the pavement, a shiny black mirror,
Masking who knows what beneath.

Yet, you’re here beside me, with rain on your
Lashes, a light in your eyes,
And a new excitement grips me, before which
All my other dreams begin to fade …

The Awakening

Journey to the Stars.

There’s a whisper in the wind tonight

A hint of something strange brewing.

The thrumming in my blood

Tells me that things will never be the same.

I feel as if a door is opening inside me,

And it cannot be closed up again.

Could this finally be the moment

That I’ve always known would come,

When the barriers between our

Worlds come tumbling down?

I can see you now, through the veils

Of time and of immeasurable distance.

My heart cries out to yours and yours to mine.

Our love will shatter stars and galaxies,

And shake the very cosmos to its core,

And you and I will be as one forevermore.

He Feels Their Pain

Hunter "Patch" Adams, May 15, 1998

Before I began to write about compassion, I went to dictionary.com, which describes it as: “A feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another, who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.”

British poet James Kirkup said, “…with proper grace. Informing a correct compassion, that performs its love, and makes it live.” Wow, I have just reread the last eight words several times, and I am awed by their beauty.

I was struck, too, by the realization that compassion is not a wimpy little feeling. It does not merely look and pity and pass on. It enters into the feelings of the sufferer and inspires the compassionate one actually to do something to make things better. Compassion has elements of sympathy and love and strength, but it also has muscle, for want of a better word.

Patch Adams’s inspiring story is a perfect example of compassion, or love, in action. I was very distressed to hear that Universal Studios had failed to keep their promise to build the hospital, and that Patch Adams received no money from the film. From a 1999 New York Times article I learned that: “Patch Adams” the Robin Williams comedy about an unconventional doctor, was released last Christmas Day and went on to earn $135 Million at the domestic box office and $200 Million worldwide.

Rather than becoming embittered and withdrawing from the fray, Patch Adams just keeps on being Patch Adams and doing what he does best, helping people to heal from the inside out. I like the TV show “House” and watch Gregory House with a sort of horrified fascination. Most of his patients make it, true, but he is no Patch Adams. He frequently wreaks serious injury on his patients in his attempts to cure them. Since House is what I think would be classified as a functioning sociopath, if it’s all the same to you I’ll take Patch Adams’s brand of healing.

Doctors should be teaching us how to be healthy, and to notice when our bodies are out of tune, so that we can stay healthy. Nowadays we only see our doctors when we’re ill, when we’re out of tune with our natural rhythms. Do you think it’s a coincidence that doctors are said to practice medicine? I want a doctor who knows what he’s doing!

Patch Adams has inspired me to take a new look at compassion and he needs my help, and yours, to carry on his work. I pledge to do my part.

Related articles

• My interview with Patch Adams. What’s your gesundheit? (worldtruthtoday.com)
• Compassion (tomaplomb.blogspot.com)