The Unfinished Book

It was an afternoon in the sun, reading a book I’ve struggled for two weeks to finish. I sat in my car, watching and listening to the choppy waters of the lake.

The cell phone rings and I answer to the voice of an elderly gentleman. We typically touch base every Christmas, but as yet we had not spoken this year. He brought news of his physical decline and perhaps the necessity of assistance with daily living is now of a timely decision. His anxiety and depression were ever so evident.

It was time to drive home, as the sun had begun its descent and the warmth had begun to diminish. Instead I traveled in a different direction and treated myself to grits, eggs, bacon and coffee.

I listened to the chatter about me and chuckled at the man sitting in the booth just behind me. He was a regular there and knew all the employees. One by one, they all came to sit with him for a spell. I remember being that person once upon a time, where everybody knew my name. As I headed for my car, another gentleman escorted me out and made sure I got to my car safely. His wife was waiting for him in the booth by the window, so I had to give him back.

For a few months now I have curtailed my excursions, saving money and energy for long term goals and imminent disasters. Sitting today among the humble masses made me realize how much I’ve missed these bits of a wider reality, otherwise known as life beyond the here and now.

Yea though I love my home and enjoy all that it entails, I also glean new blessings from being out among the humble masses.

The book remains, yet still, unfinished.


Voices of Yesterday

In the pit we are thrown as a child and its shame follows us wherever we go. We can rise to be the most powerful person in the land and everyone must obey when we say, “You come” or “You go”.

But it only takes one word or one sight to bring us to our knees or flat on our backs. Perhaps we have crossed paths with folks from our dark past. Then in the pit we have returned; its memory in our psyche and in our heart has burned.

Be free young man, young man or whomever you may be. Let not today hold you captive to another time and place. You are much more than the angry and twisted voices of yesterday.


in the presence of Peace
the gift akin to gold.

within the shelter of Peace
the gift beckons to be unwrapped.

beneath the comfort of Peace
the gift penetrates the soul.

upon the promise of Peace
the gift is nothing but divine.

for the Truth of Peace
the gift uplifts the heart.

in the presence of Peace
the gift not to shun nor deny.