Happiness…

a piece

of gum…chewed

spit out flavorless

someone who

lost the need

the spark

the

spirit.

Stuck to the

bottom

of a shoe

always there

always

just

under

there.

Until walking

minding business

looking everywhere

nowhere

it sticks…and…bang

One leg less

walking;

stuck.

Happiness

just happens

when we

don’t look

don’t see

don’t care

don’t

try…

just

walk.

Reaching out with

genuine interest, genuine

concern, a smile

that walks across the room

tickles.

Sprints to the next

the next

the

next…

holds family inside, outside

asks the

question:

leave with me? Go

to the sand

the sea…?

Reach for tomorrow

combine

become more than

one.

See the beauty that lies

beneath us

around

you…me;

us.

Gather the

smiles…

gather the children, call

names

see faces

and feel the

sea, feel the freedom

of being

there and here.

And always

smiling.

Taking it all

in

watching the words

she wrote

spare

few…

thinking

what they

mean

how they flow

fall

slip around

on the

page. Reading them

not close

not quick

but

so wrong…and

well meaning

yes

holding onto chivalry

onto

empathy

write the following;

I am sorry

wait until

the meaning

is right

is

what should be

should

have been.

Wrong was…um

easy;

wrong,

and right meaning

but

wrong.

The soft touch of hands

flower petals

spider web silk

hesitant fingers.

The rush of blood as

surface area

meets surface area.

The sense of

self

of more…

Cold

like it

shouldn’t be…but

warm hands

warm souls.

A glimpse into

the future

the tomorrow

that might

be, might

include the soft

touch of

hands.

And lips, and

breaths, small cold

inhalations,

quick and warm

exhalations.

A turned head walking

toward

tomorrow. Thinking

of soft

hands.

I tried to write about happiness

once

when I was a child before I knew

the world, before

life paid me a visit

stopped by

for a little

chat.

I stopped trying after that.

I tried to live in happiness

once

when I was a little older and thought

I knew

better

more

deeper

farther

but I never really knew.

I stopped living after that.

and got older

more scars and more

legends inside

more ego, less

ego, less

will to know.

And I learned.

I learned that

trying is the best

way to not start, that

trying means you don’t know, that

trying is the start of the end of

doing…

…so now I write about happiness

without trying

and live in happiness

without trying.

I

just

am.

The faults of man that make us drip tears,

feel pain,

wrench our insides with

crudely hewn weapons with

words so sharp;

so

impossible to create, yet,

we do…

…and

well.

We commit war

on ourselves, throw

death like bags of wheat

or rice

on trucks for the poor

evenly distributed

by lottery

by luck

by

plan.

It’s not my religion or

yours or

spirits or energy or

that spark of

life, that sense of who we are

who they were

the people who we knew and

will

never

be…it is humanity itself.

They lay dead before us;

our sons, our daughters,

wives, husbands,

fathers,

mothers.

It is not these things (now) that

sting our eyes,

souls,

make us feel loss and fear

death.

It is base humanity

and

our connection:

through blood

and

DNA and

history…the residue of war;

the inky black

stain that coats

our insides

and the internal reaches

of our minds.

Without the will to continue; I simply

went on…no questions required

no justification looked for

nothing

but

perseverance as

propellant, as

fuel…and

lucky circumstance

propped me

up.

By going on I was able

to visit that

place, that

moment inside us all; where

the tide turns

the tipping point

critical mass

and then I went

into that place,

the place

where nothing was missing.

Amazing and clear

the light shone like a layer

that

lay over

everything

in puddles, in corners

in essence

the same.

So looking at it with open

eyes, with open

defenses, with missing

animosity;

I continued

against

Not Continuing

as that

stops us

most

of all.

Brutality crashes

through the deep

green wood

irrespective footfalls

digging trenches where

Morality strives

to span the chasm

of what is

and what should

be.

Brutality swings

to and

fro

looking, ever looking

for:

a victim

an event

a tragedy

an end

Morality starts at

the victim

and

reaches across

chastity and innocence…

announces the

perpetrator…and

it us

it is always

us.

Brutality bends reality

mashes what we know

to fit into

bruised boxes

while

Morality

tries to build

the box that

we

can never

live in.

My shoes are edged out over

the curb, toes

in mid-air

heels precarious, arms straight

down…slowly

wavering

at my sides…

not watching traffic

not

watching much.

Thinking of her.

A cab slides by an

inch

away

two at the most;

don’t see it until

it is

gone.

Thinking.

Be careful my mind sings

slow

over and over

don’t lose

her

attention, her

notice., her

warm smile; wry and

thinking.

Always.

The light changes…

I think I should

watch

and measure…and

get in step

with her…not

behind or

in front…

in step with

her.