My Voice

It is said that there is but one true thing we can do That is to profess the truth. I have one voice I am a man in a rich society I am a technologist Sometimes I love my work Sometimes it is almost too much for me The striving to succeed, the setbacks, the … Read more

One Gift

One gift to leave my friends One song to sing for the silent and oppressed One arrow is all I have One candle to lighten the darkness Let it be hope. You love the earth You feel the pain of her children It is not you who suffer So much as it is all humanity … Read more

Pseudo Man

Today is Father’s Day and I am thinking of my own father who died at the age of 89 shortly after moving to Massachusetts from California to be close to me and Marianne. The three of us had spent precious time together in California helping my father prepare for that move. That time was a … Read more

The Deserted City

I am the ice princess My feelings lie buried deep Oh, I have the usual anger and hurt An occasional touch of mirth to lighten the load. But where is the wellspring of love The compassion that reaches beyond self to others And lights my lamp for my friends? Snow lies deep The streets are … Read more

Conversations

Can we talk, my friend, you and I? Just the two of us? I think at this moment we are on divergent paths Not only us but all across the world So many paths, so many beliefs So much passion to do what is thought to be right And sometimes there is anger. What can … Read more

The Bow and Arrow

This poem, written in 1984, was included in a collection of poems entitled Within Ourselves. It was the third such collection of poem all written within a span of a few months. I had never written poetry before. I believe this outpouring of verse was for a reason, and the subject matter of some of … Read more

The Eyes of Birds

I wrote this poem in the late 1980s or early 1990s after Marianne and I saw the French film Les Yeux Des Oiseaux about political prisoners in South America. The film made a tremendous impact on me, and I am thinking of it now as I seek discernment on the way forward in my life. I am not a social activist. What am I called to do as I seek to be there for my close friends while also caring about the whole world?

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Winter Sun

One stream of my poetry is in the area of social concerns. Although the season in the northern hemisphere is late spring, almost summer, it feels to me that on a spiritual level in the world we are in winter. Today I felt a call to share this poem written many years ago during winter. It is the title poem of a small collection of poetry that I hope to re-issue soon.

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