Monday, June 4, 2012

Poems from Another Life

Photo from 1980 6 years after I came to Jesus

I am posting a series of poems which were written years ago before I came to know Jesus as my Lord and Savior. Some were written when I was a professing atheist and an alcoholic. If you have read my pieces since I came to Jesus I think the contrast is evident.

This was written during the Viet Nam era when many were being drafted and leaving not of their own accord.

You Left
You left yesterday, you know
Or was it the year before
Your stay so short
I almost think it was a dream…

Yet I have grown
And changed too much
For it to be unreal
The time was beautiful
As were we

And can I feel tomorrow now?
No more than you
And tomorrow I will be leaving
Another chapter
Will the book be written?

Again no answer appears
The radio is playing
A song I’ve never heard
In a different time
Or in a different land

Yes, there will be another summer
Perhaps we will be together then
We can’t say
For a lot will pass
Between then and now
As much has passed
Between now and then

You asked me not to say
I might never be coming back
Not to say what is honest
And might be true
It is a reality
As much as we ever were
And we were, you know
I must retain my honesty
Sometimes I think
It is the only thing
I have going for me.


You, who have loved so many
And I who have loved so few
Together, for a moment in time

I knew you but superficially then
Time went on, so did we, together
You allowed me to glimpse at you
Your vulnerable inside self
You have learned fear and hesitancy
From that great, explicit teacher, Hurt

Now you must go
I hear a question I’ve heard before
And fear is what I feel
For I too have a vulnerable self
Having learned fear and hesitancy
From that great, explicit  teacher, Hurt

As you are leaving
There is a question I cannot answer
Though I want to so desperately
Instead I say “I am loving you”
Even those words were hard to say

Pretty Rose

A pretty rose
Of peach shading into pink
Delicate as the summer rain
I thought
Yet it lives forever
Not touched by wind
Or snow or tears
From season to season
It never changes, never dies
For it’s not real
But a pretty, plastic rose
Nowadays not much is real
The world is full of imitations
Which don‘t change or grow or die.
How can they? They have never lived
But at least they won’t know
The pain of dying.


It was once written:
“Time goes by
And people change
But life goes on
As before”

Does it? When?
Eventually, I suppose
But how can it
When the shattered self
Slowly places back the pieces
Only to discover
The keystone is missing –
And where did it go?
Certain only that it is gone
As am I.

(C) Marijo Phelps all rights reserved. Use with proper credits.

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