Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The Canonical Perspective

He would rise before the sun,
not in competition
but because there is work to be done.

It was as though he always heard a calling.
And the momentum kept building
and has no chance of stalling.

When he returned from each hard day,
it was the day who stalled
to let him keep giving.

The logs stood up with pride,
as his axe struck them
- slicing through with one glide.

The acres of grass
suffocated the weeds
so the green would never fade,
and lended themselves to his blade.

His son's wild pitch
would bend with the wind
and always find its way to his mitt.

And when the big brown recliner
opened itself and beckoned a yawn,
and he sat with his eyes simply resting.
He would count his numerous blessings
and plan the efforts of tomorrow.

And we knew he wasn't asleep
thanks to that subtle, honest smile.


Jordan R Shaver 08.29.2012

Monday, August 20, 2012

Departure

The vibrations from the long trek across miles of tracks
still rattle within my steel frame,
as I squeal to a halt at my last stop.
They scurry and gather that which is important enough to pack,
and shove their way from the back,
and I'm relieved of their worries and troubles,
and I finally get a chance to wash and rest,
as the engineers do their final tests.

I suddenly awake with new coal,
fresh water,
new cargo,
and clean wheels
that don't seem to want to roll.
But despite another fresh start,
I feel I take the aches of my on board travelers,
and my steam condensates,
blending with the tears of those on board
who have succumbed to needs,
not wants,
as the beckoning distance begins to taunt
with an engineers final whistle
calls to prompt.
As a father says goodbye,
making the teddy bear
- a gift from his kids
wave to them in somber animation,
as they stand
waving back
from the edge of the train station.

My gears begin to grind
and accelerate to a slow start,
as though the wheels have been kind to the tracks,
and they beg them not to depart.
And I realize these passengers feel the same ache,
as they are my purpose,
they are my heart.
But the duties that lay ahead can no longer wait,
so I grimace and focus
and plumes of dust and dirt
follow me even though everything hurts.
And just like my passengers
I ignore the wills of my heart
and force my wheels to start.


Jordan R Shaver 08.20.2012















(Artwork by D. Harley Hall)

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Breaking the Fever

I want to assemble the world's carpenters
and build a bed to cradle the Earth.
I want to gather the quilt makers
and cover us in the comfort of
a grandmother's love.
Then all heroes will be called to report
to the head of the bed,
and tuck us in,
and hold our hands,
reassuring us
we're well taken care of.

Jordan R Shaver 08.14.2012

A Collector's Pace



With our feet,
we fold the piles
of emeralds and gold
too small to use or hold,
but collect under the bed of our toe
so the riches are hauled everywhere we go.

- Jordan R Shaver 04.30.2010

Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Importance of a Vicarious Wish

He bent down and whispered to me;
"Go."
and I went.

Commanding discipline and supporting the wills of not only my deepest wishes, but those of humanity. The word echoed in the hearts of men.
And they felt it reverberate within their being.
Dropping tools and items of distraction - we all knew it was time to discover new things.
But only he could see we were tiny little beings turning our wheels - seeking to understand our own silly wills.

Until I came to translate.

They came to me with wild wishes of lives impossible. And I came to them to encourage, but ended up with piles of wishes unsalvageable.
 I combined their dreams and held them in one hand. And saw the joy of a world aglow ripple through civilization. And saw the disappointment in the realization of dreams unheard.
So I dug into my pocket,
quickly filled with wish-bills folded beyond my the capacities of my wallet,
I created a key and stretched it into a cable to unlock it,
to share every human experience with those who long for it.

I know it's not the same. And although these dreams are simply experienced by one,
and absorbed by others from their gleam,
I dream of a day where they realize the internal fame of being alone,
but as a part of a team.
Even if the team remains unseen.

Because there are lessons to be learned from every encounter with life. And you can walk on it, and breathe it in, and swing from it, but it exists for you and is always right. She might be green with wings in constant flight. But as long as you notice her, and take in the time she gives, you will learn that this is life. And your silly little wills and wishes and dreams have bloomed and brought to light. As long as you see it, you can live it without the struggles, without the plight.


Jordan R Shaver 08.09.2012