Scarred is he who wants the world
But looks on in anguish
at the pain and suffering,
of others,
pining over his own scars.

His scars are healed, though still
scars.

Wounds of the world wound the heart,
Wrench at the soul,
but those are wounds that don’t
leave such visible scars.
those scars
deep within
deep inside
where no-one else goes
and he goes there rarely,
perhaps finding that far place
too close for comfort.

He would rather distance himself
a safe distance
a real distance where
the scars can’t be felt
or seen or heard,
though they remain.

He would rather split atoms,
and talk of treasures and
want and want and want
and do all his unscarred
morality allows.

And scars are always there.
He is always there,
but never feels anything.

he is lost.
he is scarred.

Just a few words
to lighten your day,
Make you feel more at ease
in my own personal way.

A note to a friend
I’ve not seen for too long,
But I’ve been with in thought
and in heart and in song

My dearest Victoria,
Here’s a cheer for your grace
A toast to a friend –
a change of your pace!

My dearest Victoria,
By electronic way,
I send you my warmest
Whole-hearted “Gidday!”

Vera, our loved and loving mother,
Our giving and sharing grandmother,
Has joined Arthur now, in rest.
Always glowing with the Light of Life,
Hers was a fulfilled life:
A legacy to the bastion of parenthood;
To Life itself.

* * *

We, her loved and loving family,
Shall remember all we knew:
Her Love, her Light, her Life.
For all we know and all she was,
We always have.

And we, her loved and loving family,
Need always remember all we have:
Our own Love, our Light, and our Life.
For that which we have and share,
Is hers always.