Views gifted from more than one lens

Looking into the sun, eclipse, father gives me his welding lenses that I might behold what might otherwise blind. Then he whispered, “Son, without the Sun there is no Moon, and without the Moon there is no Sun – one, alone, we’d be blinded; the other, alone, we’d behold nothing.” I have beheld both thanks to more than one lens.

'A Son's Friend died'   (3years past, they were 15)trgates,10/16/2015

A friend dies,
in our youth.
A Mother dies,
In our years past youth.
We sigh, past tears, we think.
they come again, briefly.
Lazarus died, his best friend,
Jesus, came four days late --
He wept. He healed his friend.
His friend wept three years later.
He was unable to heal him.
Perhaps they too walked Emmaus Road.
Eternity's breath is quick,
each gone, as another arrives.
We are jealous for their smile
their cries
their laugh, like no other
their ego, taking time to engage ours.
We pray, even if we don't pray
We curse, even God, for misplaced
omniscience and omnipotence
Mostly, we miss
our friend
our Mother
our others.
Kaddish. Memory Eternal is intoned. Chant, Book of the Dead. Grieve.
One thing we know -
though some speak of them being in a better place,
a good bandage while in public -
Love knows nothing save a Blessed Repose
Love's Eternal Memory is lived
Love has no need for abstract, well intended comfort
Love merely knows, that though bribed by death,
we see them still because.,
well, just because.

'She sings her song'        timothy r gates, 9/15/2015(for Alissa's 22nd)

many lights,
one unfailed candle
stars burn out,
there's always a north star
angels fell to earth,
an angel whispers in silence
She sings her song,
broken wings heal
She sings her song,
sometimes alone.
listen in between the words,
fairies, angels and imps -
gnomes too,
know her voice.

'This Imp is my hope'  timothy r gates, 7/8/2012; reworked 9/15/15

when heaven opens, she smiles,
not knowing that divinity's dancing
when her heart breaks,
not knowing that empty bottles
welcome the overflow:
I know,
when I shook my fists violently
when I desired no more breaths
when I hated that I could not stop believing -
My sweet Imp reminded me to
sing
open my arms
pray like it's real.
My eyes anointed
with mud from sand,
I don't know if I ever see trees walking,
I know this heart and soul,
this Imp is my hope,
when she walks up behind me
and places her head upon my shoulder,
whispering,
"Daddy, I love you,"
I know this other sh' matters not a twit.

First piece, a Daddy's love beholding his Daughter's (always a queen from birth) love, now evolving to when she'll behold her own little boy coming forth face to face. The second piece reflects and celebrates the divine-mother, human-divine always of love's engaging, transfigured by now.
'Birthday dates, and more'           timothyrgates,8/11/2015

Birthday dates, and more.
I beheld the universes in your eyes,
you were placed into my arms
timelines eclipsed by eternity,
I understood creation story's,
"and the earth was void, and darkness
covered it......   'Let there be light,'
and there was light."
Birthday dates, and more,
a deluge of universes remain for your viewing,
as you'll hold them in your arms,
and silence will be baptized -
baby skin, mushed vegetables
naps during nursing, perpetual clean up
and various cries
before you imagine it,
you'll know this refrain,
Birthday dates, and more.

 

'My Boy, my Son'             timothy r gates,6/20/2015,18th birthday

He walks quietly,
not sharing his thoughts
not offering a contrary view
not giving unsolicited advise
Unless he
sees others demeaning you
hears you dismissing another's beliefs
feels your harmful intent
He hates
infidelity of any kind
treating 'pets' like they're less than human
opinions expressed that give no room for other opinions
He loves loudly
his mother, brothers and sisters, family
his grandmother, not even a complaint when asking for help
his girlfriend, friends, and unique is one he disagrees with often
He walks louder,
when your fidelity is unquestioned
when your hurt needs only his empathy
when your love gives words to a song, no matter the music genre
He pulls me in
with one of the best smiles ever, when he chooses to let it seen
when he says, "I love you dad," everyday
(three words still are like, "let there be light," to a chaotic heart.)
when I see his face amidst other teens, or look from behind the altar
He walks,
always with heart and soul, feeling as deep as he believes
always with an intuition that dogs and cats know
always with an eye for, "What's next?"
Eighteen, now history.
My Boy, my Son,
today is always your day.