Sunday, September 6, 2020


It's part of life, right?

Here's something I wrote a while ago about Sadness, personifying it as a woman I did not know.


I've noticed you before, over the years, the decades,

standing in the corner of those rooms,

passing out the door I was coming in,

walking down the street outside my house

with an umbrella and a dog

whether it was raining or not.


You are not unattractive--in fact, there was a certain

fascination about you in your calm and stoic look.

I liked that you would hold my glance when I would

look away, How I would remember your eyes before I slept.


It was you eyes, you know, that made me nod

and maybe even smile as we almost touched

in the hallways of my life. Nod and smile, that much

and never more before turning away to speak to another.

Your eyes troubled me,

frightened me, brought me night terrors,

because you saw into the soul of me and did not flinch.


Recently, our hands have almost touched, both reaching

for some cheese or a slice of melon at a party where we

both felt out of place. And I saw your eyes all new,

in a different way--and fear you less.

So I invite you into my home, my thoughts, my heart,

to learn what dreadful and healing things you have

to tell me, whisper into my tears and to feel you

lips against my own, kissing and tasting and giving life.



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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.