A Frozen Tear

By William Thomas

Winter in Kodiak, a time of little light.
The snow brightens the ground and the stars light up the night.
A cluster of Spruce sag deep, a drift in front of my car.
My heart weighs heavy. Thoughts of relatives afar.
A blustery wind blows, north then south.
A cold winter thirst, warm java for my mouth.
A homeless man sleeps, all bundled in clothes.
His heart deep with thoughts of past Christmas woes.
A handshake, a smile, a sip of my coffee.
A friend in waiting, I became to he.
Some food from the shelter, a warm place to rest.
His life for the moment, felt happy and blessed.
He told me the stories of days long ago.
My full attention, he required, to him I happily bestowed.
A veteran of the war, a father of four.
A long distance call seemed to matter no more.
The blanket of stars and the snow under his feet,
only brought back memories of a scar so deep.
A story from my life, I understood his loss.
To spend Christmas without family, there's no greater cost.
One more handshake. A “man-hug” goodbye.
His face looked of worry, wondered if I would be back tonight.
A job in Kodiak sometimes is so rare.
But I am happy to tell you, where I work is here.
A smile, a thought, the lending of an ear.
A thousand times more helpful than a frozen tear.

That Distance was between Us

That Distance was between Us
That is not of Mile or Main—
The Will it is that situates—
Equator—never can—

Emily Dickinson

Our First Meeting

Take me back to when we first met
I traveled half way around the world
Funny enough you were late
But I would have easily waited a lifetime

My memory recalls the wait in between your calls
The intricate art on the ceilings, the marble floor
The affluent mingle inside the hotel
And the beggars just outside the door

Mother introduces her daughter for the very first time
It seems so cold, so calculated, so unnecessary
Surely love must play a part in this arrangement
But no, this is India, that will come later - perhaps

Finally you arrive and nothing else matters
My eyes confirms what my imagination conjured up
My first words are you are so beautiful
Today my last words will be the same

(c) 2007 by Gerard C. Johnson

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If it's the other way around, I'd likewise travel halfway around the world just to see if it's really you whom I have fallen in love with -- or was it just the idea of you... Fortunately, I know the answer now.

distance

tonight time's wings fold.
you have taken the wind eastward
to the mountains
and my bed is still and wide.
at this time of night only the alone sit up.
my hand writes words to hold the spaces
you left,
but listen:
I can't seem to get the dimensions right;

no words can fill the distance of your voice.

© 1971, 1996 Leslye Layne Russell

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This was sent by a dear friend whose mere idea I have loved deeply...