“He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God.” ~Aeschylus, Agamemnon
Men walk proudly upon this earth
Some appear like gods to smaller men.
Confidence cloaks something deeper still
Not seen at all upon their faces of pretense.
In the quiet of each solitary house
A dimly burning candle guides one deep within.
There one finds a wound so deep
All men cry out, though few admit.
Wounded mortality is the gift to all -
Therein one must find a lonely path:
A path that leads to many roads
The choice is not a gamble, but…a thought.
Oh sacred solitude -
I return to be in your quiet presence. You shelter my privacy,
Within your bosom you embrace me -
I feel safe and all together at home.
Pensively I linger for a long time,
Allowing my thoughts to roam freely.
The clanking noisiness of life
Yields to the hushed silence of your entity,
Allowing freedom to unleash bountiful peace.
Fear and anxiety are like falling stars,
As the incense of my prayers accent,
Into the sacred solitude of my own heart.
Oh solitude, my sacred precious solitude,
You so eloquently speak comfort to me.
May you captivate my heart fully -
And may you teach me never to fear you,
But to love you even more intimately!
This is my mother and father. I was with them for the first 1 or 1 1/2 years of my life, until I was placed in an orphanage in Germany. I lived in an orphanage until I was 14 years old when my father found me and brought me to the United States. Years later, I was able to find my mother in Nürnberg, Germany, but I was never able to visit her. Each time I would fly to Germany, she would disappear and return only after she knew I was back in the States. I was able to speak with her one time before she passed away from lung cancer. Her voice was a pleasant surprise to me. I told her that all was well and that I wished her peace of heart and an abundance of love. I then sent flowers to her hospital, and six months later she died. I have felt intense sadness for this woman because, even though she brought four children into this world, she was unable to mother her own babies – for whatever reasons. May she rest in peace always!
Mother
Through you I came, oh precious soul,
Yet my mother you could never be.
No ill will I hold within my heart for you,
For you did, perhaps, the best you could.
You wandered and searched your entire life
Longing for something you would never find.
We were there, you see, right by your side
Laughter and warmth would have filled your life.
Oh, my beloved Mother,
May you now fold up those heavy, drooping wings
And may your weary heart find rest at last.
All is well! All is well! No more tears need be shed.
May your tired soul rest peacefully now,
And may you awaken…with lessons learned,
To the beauty and warmth of Love.
Preserving the beauty of ancient times
Offering wisdom in the folds of its age,
This old country calls me back again
Whispering peace and assurance today.
Stretch forth your arms, oh mighty Alps,
Tell your story to the weary at heart.
Your generosity is as a healing balm
To wounded, tearful lovers of all time.
Let your brooks sing their lovely songs
As they happily, freely flow without care.
Washing away the old and making new,
Leaving impressions of life lived well.
As generations walk upon the old cobblestones
In aged cities, villages, and towns
Isolation unravels, it cannot be ignored
Finding warmth and kinship all around.
