Forgotten

I’ve forgotten the future,

Replaced my remembrances

With wishes, dreams, hope,

With unanchored imagination,

Convinced, somehow,  the future is malleable,

That I have choices and unforeseen consequences

Which will shape my life

And the lives of those around me.

I’ve forgotten the future,

And no matter what they say,

Everyone else has forgotten the future too.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

When I Pray

When I pray,
First,
I turn off all my electronic devices,
And,
Put my list of things to do aside,
Then,
Close my eyes and ask.

After a while,
I stop asking
And listen.

It takes time.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Intervention

My love is leaving,

Going on an errand without me.

She grabs her purse,

Heads for the door,

And I wonder,

Is this the last day of her life?

I urgently say,

“Drive careful!”

Should I delay her departure

With idle conversation,

Interrupting some calamitous chain of events?

Or would my interference set events in motion

Threatening accident and harm?

Whatever comes,

I will feel responsible

For what I did,

Or what I did not do,

Wondering,

In a thousand different ways,

Can I truly guide the hand of fate,

At all?

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Stray

The stray cat waiting outside your door,
Testing your compassion,
Your humanity.

For I was hungry and you gave me food.
I was thirsty and you gave me drink.
I was a stranger and you took me in.

Meow.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Ark

I hear faint whispers,
Far from this devouring sea.

I am lost,
Waiting for pestilence to pass.

That all things must pass
Is small comfort to the despair of this place.

I press one hand against the other,
Not knowing what to ask,
Knowing only that some things must stop
Before other things begin.

I hear faint whispers.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Who Is Asking?

What is the shape of my mind?
The shape of my spirit?
My soul?

What is my essence?
What does it look like?
Just an image in the mirror?

Who is writing these words?

Am I a collection?
A collection of pain,
Pleasure,
And everything between and beyond?
Am I a receptacle?
Am I both?
Or neither?

And by the way,
Who is asking?


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved