For My Wife

In all of this confusion I must stop to remind myself of what was. Across the years of my life I suffered without you but now that suffering seems so sweet. For somewhere, deep within Those silent, slinking hours the spark of this was born. Your name, true love, was spoken in my heart before I ever saw your face. And when you arrived A symphony of thankfulness erupted within. For your eyes reflected mine own, And your heart became the window that framed my understanding of the the world.

Passing Thoughts

You are not with me.

The weight of the
words descends upon
my other thoughts,
compressing them until

you are not with me

is the only thought
within my mind.

In such a condition
I am useful
for little more
than this:

a quiet song
that only hints
at your beauty,
but expresses most
succinctly my attitude
towards its absence.

Walking Through Doors

Into the hall where
we will celebrate
our marriage.

I notice things
I've never noticed
in a room before: the shape
of the chandeliers,
the meticulous detail
of the molding,
the seamless blend
of sconces and
deftly painted walls.

I'm not sure
if I am noticing
these things because
I want our wedding
to be perfect, or
because I know
how much the details
mean to you.

Words Before Bed

Thinking of you.

Wondering how deep
you are sleeping and if

you are lying face down
with your hands under
your pillow or resting

on your side with
your knees tucked
close to your stomach.

No place like home

This is for
the red Taurus
that I saw
pulling into its
driveway

moments ago.

And for
the relief
its driver
felt returning
home this

Sunday evening,

Anticipating the
welcome back,
Thankful that
he had
some place

to go.

Once again

I find myself in the midst
of a poem
I had no intention of writing.

Outside my window the world
is sleeping, but here within words
sprawl across the page,
are erased in haste,
and soon reappear
as I bend and shape the line.

I might have learned by now
that your essence cannot be captured
with a few phrases,
but I am still the fool
you fell in love with
and thus,
I am writing this poem.

When I set my pencil down
I will imagine coming
home to you on a dreary winter day,
walking through the door with
the third snow of January
clinging to my boots.

Out of the cold,
I will lift my eyes to you
And remember, for a moment,
The empty house,
The noiseless rooms,
The endless quiet
you spared me.

Why I Write

It suddenly occurs to me that
I do not possess
the skill to relate
your virtues to the world.
Were I Neruda, or Spenser,
Or Byron your quiet beauty
would by now be known
around the world,
And in days yet to come
My words would dwell
in lovers' minds,
Framing their passion,
Teaching their lips to speak
the language of the heart.

If only I could translate
this emotion into words.
If I could take this love
You have given me and
express its selfless simplicity
to the world,
Then I would take my place
among giants, and you would
live forever among the
golden pages of posterity.

And yet, though there are
limits to what my verses
may achieve, I am not
at all dismayed.

I do not write of you
with the intent of surpassing
the masters of days gone by, nor
with thoughts of launching
our names into eternity.

I write simply to
remind my heart of hope
that has been fulfilled,
and the joy of life
your beauty has restored.

A Work in Progress

I've been writing this poem
since the moment I met you.

Call it a work in progress.

It was supposed to be a
concise yet complete explanantion
of how you transformed
my understanding of life.

I doubt that anyone
knows how to write this poem.
This is not the sort of thing
they teach in Poetry 101.

I could compare you to things,
important, life-sustaining things
like the sun, or water, or bread.
I could allude to poets long dead and buried
to attain the images I seek.

But I want this to be yours.

I want to dedicate
this ration of human thought
to all that you are:
faithful daughter,
loyal friend,
true-hearted companion,
mother-to-be.

My past and future are united in your love,
as the man who once was
evolves into the man
you dreamed he could be.

The Flame of Love

This evolution of emotion
defies my understanding.

What force could pull
my mind from its pursuits
and bind my thoughts to you
in every moment that
wanders past throughout the day?

The truth of my being
is that I have always been
a selfish man,
seeking momentary pleasures
and closing my ears to
all that did not concern me.

For so long I failed to see
that my better qualities
were consumed by the
cloud of my pride,
and I lived in a vacuum,
unresponsive to the world
that called on me to change.

But when you came into my life
you shattered the walls of silence
that surrounded me,
and singing sweetly into my soul
your words pressed beyond my pride,
into the forgotten chambers of my heart.
There they lit a ceaseless fire,
and with that flame
I will illuminate the darkness
that awaits us at death.

The Wasted Hours

Amid the silent
hours of your absence
I am reminded of
what was before.

The sovereignty of solitude
returns for a moment, and the foundation
of my destiny trembles
like a forest pressed by an autumn wind.

I survived for years
without your smile,
but now you smile for me,
and a day without you
crawls past like a life age.

There is no warmth
from your grace-holding eyes,
no promise of heaven
that passes through your lips.

In all of this
there is only the waiting:
a slow parade of hours
and an inexorable faith
in the restoration
that you will soon provide.

A Definition of Love

It is the deep reflection
that your beauty incites in me,
Churning words of praise within
my mind and pushing my pen
across the page.

It is the fluent understanding
of the language of your eyes,
and speaking with you at length
without saying anything at all.

It is the realization
that you are with me
even when you are not
by my side.

To know that your thoughts,
unbound by distance or time,
fly faithfully to me
when we must be apart.

The Joy of Remembrance

In the confusion of ecstasy
I almost forgot how this began:
a smile, an introduction,
a series of brief "hello's"

As I came to know you
the mantle of silence
receded from my life,
and I marveled at glimpses
of your beauty as though
they were sunrises
breaking upon the world.

Each step we took together
helped lead to this moment.
This peace we have created
defies the somber themes of our time.

I only sit back, and smile,
and remember all my years of longing.
For I have relinquished all doubts,
and my river of wanting has run dry.

These Three Remain

Before I knew you, I did not know faith,
I trusted in my steadfast pride alone.
I wandered, cold and lifeless as a wraith
Until you came and made God's greatness known.
Before I knew you, I did not know hope,
I ran fast in pursuit of vain desire.
It seemed that peace lay far beyond my scope,
Until you brought the peace that I require.
Before I knew you, I did not know love,
My life was long a hollow, aimless dream.
I spurned the blessings sent from up above
Until you came and taught the word "redeem"
Faith, hope, and love remain and by these three
You breathed the gift of new life into me.

The Conversion

What swear they now, who swore that God was dead,
And here, bewildered, gaze upon her face?
Their disbelief is vanquished, and instead
of doubt, they come to know God through her grace.
He set in her bright eyes a living flame
That all might feel his love within that light.
What force but his could draw such wide acclaim,
Or spread across the world such rare delight?
And now they race to penance, since they lied
When speaking of the joys of unbelief,
They curse their sins, and cast off all their pride,
And in God's love, her beauty, find relief.
What greater proof have we that God is real
Than this, her light, which dark cannot conceal?

Forever

You consistently give me these quiet,
simple, and wholly perfect gifts:
a touch of your hand
that sets fire in my flesh,
a whispered "I love you" that lavishes
thoughts of peace upon my mind,
a hushed glance from your blue eyes which
signals that my hope has been redeemed.

I'll walk with you always
because before I met you
my life was but a shade:
I wandered in the silence of
not-knowing-your laughter,
and all the world was black
without the forgiveness
I find in your smile.

We frequently speak of forever,
but it does not lie in the future.
It is around us, within us,
and its power grows with
every sweet embrace,
the sacred moments
when two hearts melt into one.

Sonnet for Athanasia

The living fire burns hot within her heart,
And melts the ice that drapes across my world.
I give her names like "joy that won't depart,"
"My hope of peace," "The might of God unfurled."
Her beauty is the theme the poet seeks
And yet, by fortune, is but mine to praise.
A strangely simple task for when she speaks
She moves me so, and sets my heart ablaze.
Her splendor is the sum of my esteems,
A bolt of lightning in my sky of gray,
A glimpse of truth within my life of dreams,
An hour of rest that spells my darkest day.
She resurrects the faith in me again,
And marks the true departure of my sin.

No Other Life but Mine

At last I want no other life but mine,
I see God's gifts aligned in bright array.
The world conforms itself to His design,
The darkness wanes, and slowy slinks away.
For when she speaks to me, or when I hold
her gaze, no pain woud dare assail my heart.
And evil, who was once so proud and bold
Is humbled, and repents of his cruel art.
This is the sweet fruition of my thought,
This is the life I always dreamed I'd build,
This is redress for all I once forgot,
This is the hushing grace of hope-fulfilled.
And glad am I who, in the dark, rehearsed,
That now her beauty lives within my verse.

It is Forged Within Her Heart

The living fire breathes life in me once more,
Unlooked for, all my demons are subdued.
O bliss of hope reborn! she has renewed
My strength; my spirit soon begins to soar.
I prayed, and God allowed her to explore
my mind, and see what praise she had accrued,
One day the world will see, I will exude
Acclaim most high for her I most adore.
The future is not certain, we must make
Our dreams come true with patience and with care.
Cast off this idleness! I will partake
In forging my own joy--now my despair
Is fading fast, my soul begins to quake,
She gives me hope beyond the hope of prayer.

The Invocation

At times I fear man is but born to die,
And verily we all shall pass away.
The bliss and strength of youth serve to belie
Our end, which hastens closer day by day.
What is our meaning? Which our destined road?
Can we against the tide of death conspire?
We can when loveliness unmatched is sowed
Within a heart, such beauty can inspire.
I now know whence such perfect beauty came,
And I shall praise her, for I know I must.
Her beauty will not die, she'll live in fame
While all the rest fade quietly to dust.
Come words! your task is to immortalize
Her smile, her grace, the light within her eyes.

Alabanza

The mystery of your existence
sparkles like ecstasy before my eyes,
flooding my world with light.
These images flash in wonder
against the walls of my mind,
and the unspoken words
that I crafted in sleep
rise up to join
the chorus of my praise.

"imagen de luz,"
"la chispa de gracia,"
"placer de mi vida"

During the entirety of my own existence
I have hungered for the
nourishment you now provide.
At every instant, and in all places
I dreamed of the moment
when you would arrive in my arms.

Us.

I marvel that such a simple word
could evolve into something so deep.
Two letters now carry the burdensome weight
of all my burgeoning joy.