Sonnet of Trepidation

Whence cometh this fear that grips my heart in despair?
And why, with such a boon, should my soul need repair?
Ah! But this dæmon stalks at night and during the day,
And who will rescue me now and his malevolence repay?
Oh, that I might laugh once again in free joy and in peace!
God, givest thou thy servant bravery and in life new lease
That he might better serve thee in this time untarnished,
And walk with head held high in your truth unvarnished!
Lo, does this deadly pestilence stalk me ever so crudely,
And doth heavily weigh down mine heart quite so rudely
That these feet of mine hath most assuredly become lead,
And the cowardly trepidation of soul is mightily well fed;
But shall I await the doom that largely seemeth to loom?
Nay! Not while there is aplenty of room in empty tomb!

You Are Not Alone

We know you can make it through this valley,
That you can escape the darkness of this alley;
Only you doubt in your bout with depression
And repression of the fullest scope of real hope,
But that’s okay because we are here, very near,
And you are dear to us, thus we will not leave
Or forsake you to your burning burden alone;
Oh no! We know what it is like to hike this hill
And hear the shrill noise of fear in every part
Of the heart and feel a gaping hole in the soul,
For we are also children of the night
Who have faced this very same blight,
But we also found the bright light and alive life
To live not rife with pain but the greatest gain!
So we are here, too, to talk and walk with you
And, if you choose, to help you along the way;
You have nothing to lose and you are not alone!

Stage Fright

You clamor to be heard but then you stammer;
It just does not come out right though you try
With all of your might in the sight of everyone
And you’ve only just begun to spin your story
And so you begin to falter at the altar of fright
Because you feel you’re blowing it by showing
All of the world you cannot take the large stage
Even at your age, but why not turn a new page?
Let the sage inside you take over for the time;
Wisdom will guide, not chide, and you will not
Abide in fear so near to tears and they’ll hear
Your voice loud ‘n clear as you steer the stage
And engage the audience, gauge their response
And know that you have captured this show . . .
And, too, that it’s only stage fright that bites!

Oh Sister! Needless Complexity in Life

Profusion of confusion
Complexity of perplexity
Exclusion of conclusion

And you feel wired and tired at the same time
And you feel cheery and weary at the same time

Ignoring the real-time life crisis
Trying psychological zymolysis
Result is your psychic cytolysis

And you are in a turmoil
Your brain about to boil
From the truth you recoil

But . . . this is your life, so rife with pain, no gain,
And this is your choice to ignore your inner voice,
So what am I to say? This is certainly not my way!
I truly do love you and wish you all the best
And eventually, one day, peace and rest . . .
One day, some way
Someday, I do pray

Saved by the Predator

Eagle flies high up in the sky,
Sharp eye looking for its prey;
Will she spy me, though I try
To hide, in tall grass confide?
Majestically circling far above
Talons cold, there is no love;
And what do I hear in hiding
Now slithering to my abiding?
Large, long, sleek, not meek;
Suddenly the air is pierced
And gone is serpent so fierce,
Up into the clouds so high,
And I on ground bid goodbye;
I breathe a sigh of relief, cry:
Saved from danger by danger
As eagle flew high in the sky,
Sharp eye looking for its prey

New Venture . . . Today

Surely, we bear some fear with every new venture
Because the clincher is it could be a misadventure;
After all, we cannot see down the road and the load
To carry can end up being quite scary; what to do?
Forge on ahead with fidelity and prayer,
And ever look for what is bright and fair;
Expect the unexpected as a prospect for the future,
And remember: You are never alone,
Even when you’re chilled to the bone;
There is an Eye that sees and the Heart that cares;
There is One who never forsakes but close abides,
Who does not chide, but offers the helping Hand;
So with this in mind we unbind all our trepidation
And move forward into the unknown; into the new

Specter of the Happy New Year

An end in sight but there is a bend, too, to be turned;
While not everything left behind us can be burned,
Yet there is the unknown, frightening yet exciting . . .
Will we meet another street like the one we are on?
Or will it be fresh, clean and serene for us to travel?
We glance at the clock at the crossing of this block
And tremble inside; we cannot abide where we are,
No matter how brightly shines our star;
We will go far in a mere few steps, dear;
Time chimes late into this night as we look for light,
Bright sun newly risen on horizon with anticipation
And hope for better pilgrimage in a much better age;
But we do not know and this shows in our very eyes!
Some won’t make it to the bend; it’ll truly be the end;
Some will go swinging around bringing holiday cheer
Never knowing the Reaper is near;
Yes, sadly, it will be their last year;
Some will round the corner in fear
Of the unknown, asking what seeds have been sown,
And when they are shown, all the fear will disappear
In the brand New Year in which we will hear shouts
Of glee and bitter cries, hellos and sad goodbyes . . .
But it comes, nevertheless, as surely as the sun rises;
So may the New Year bring you cheer, I say this day,
And may blessings fall upon all who are near and dear!

Crossing the Bridge

There is a bridge and I’m standing at the ridge
Looking down into a deep, bottomless chasm,
And you’re on the other side with enthusiasm,
Just waiting for me to cross without any loss,
With only a different adventure exciting to gain;
No, not without any pain or strain,
But definitely one without a stain!
You’re there on the other side without baiting,
But only patiently standing without demanding,
Knowing that I am ready to take my first steps
Because I thirst so much for you and only you;
My heart is ready to burst, so I put fear aside
Just to be near you, so dear you are to my heart;
Now I will cross the bridge from ridge to ridge
Just to be with you and beautiful love so true
. . .
But the bridge has no railings
And I fear failing and falling in the crossing . . .
But your emerald eyes are calling . . . calling me

Blocked Path Ahead

My soul has locked my gaze on the blocked path ahead
But I try to remember what you said as I lie in my bed;
So do I tread carefully ‘n lightly along this nightly way,
And strain to hear what else you might say to me today;
For now the trail seems to fail me; I hail you from afar!
My heart cracks and back is breaking beneath this sack
Of worries and concerns as I scurry all around looking
For the right path, unlocked and unblocked, and yet not
One opening appears . . . only one overgrown is shown
To me as I wonder how I blundered so badly, so madly
Into such a situation and ask, ‘Where are you presently?’
That I might bask in your beauty and feel your security;
Ah! My soul has locked gaze on blocked path ahead . . .

Standing at the Crossroad

You told me that I would soon be standing at the crossroad
With workload, and you bestowed upon me but one choice:
Would I listen to your voice, even though I may not rejoice,
Or would I stay your guiding hand and go on my own way?
But here now I stand all alone, with no band of co-travelers,
And I am still and quiet, my tears my only diet,
And my very soul within me in despicable riot!
And withal do I hear your call or see you here standing tall?
Where is your arm to lead me down the path without harm?
Are you here, somewhere near but where I cannot see you?
Oh, too, do you see me churning inside like the restless sea?
Here I am now at the crossroad; shall I make this my abode?
But I cannot stay put here day upon day ‘n night after night;
You have to come and light the way as brightly as the sun,
For it has just begun to rain and I am in excruciating pain,
Which is plain to see, but will you deign to come now to me?
You told me that I would soon be standing at the crossroad
With workload, and you bestowed upon me but one choice,
And that I have made but I hear not your soft, tender voice,
And so I wait and satiate my soul
With sobs of my torn apart heart;
Yes you told me that I’d be standing here at the crossroad . . .