Evelyn Klebert

I’m not sure why you stepped into our lives,

brought with you an energy, a brightness that reminded us to live,

live with energy, with joy, with brightness.

I’m not sure why you chose to come our way,

to bring a sweetness into the darkest of times.

How you graced us,

and then you left.

I’m not sure why,

but even as we missed you,

we felt that cool sweet breeze when you opened the door to leave.

The one that reminds us of what will be.

I’m not sure why you had to go,

but I do know we are better for the time you were with us.

When does a mystery yield its secrets?
Not on my clock,
not on my time,
when I demand it do so.
Pushing, and pulling,
and trying to force its lock.
When will a shadow find its way to sunlight?
Not when I deem it is far past sunrise,
not when I expect it is time for it to do so.
When will a seed planted finally bloom into full flower?
Not by predictions of experts,
not by forecasts of weather.
but when and only when the seasons shift,
boding a full and imminent change.

A quiet breeze, yet something stirring the air
the calmness of the night,
seemingly serene, yet not peaceful.
Anticipation crackles, something elusive,
prickling, irritating.
So close, yet just beyond reach,
brushing just near enough to drive us crazy with curiousity.
Something elusive, yet to be seen.

Those quiet times we forget.
We simply move on as if were alone.
The path glides easily,
and so life takes hold,
with its busyness
that fills the days.
Those other times,
stormy times,
when chaos is rampant,
and confusion blocks our view.
Then we remember,
frantically reaching out our hands to be be guided,
supported, simply helped through.
When it all seems too much,
we desperately, readily shift the burden,
remembering that there is always someone there to take it from us.
With assurance that even if we don’t understand,
we are loved and cared for and never truly alone.
In time the darkness will lift,
and again life will go on easily,
but perhaps this time we’ll remember
and consider who led us to the other side.

What word or thought comes not from an old place?
Do we always view each other through the shades of the past?
Does a phrase trigger a memory, a slight, a slander
that makes us recoil not from the present but from old pain?
It all seems like quicksand,
but are we ever truly be free or safe from such wounds?
Perhaps in freeing each other,
we free ourselves.
But then stand in our own vulnerability,
unguarded as we were the first time the daggers hit.
And the first tears were shed.

Thrashing it Out

Children are given a beloved sensibility.
They see the world through unsuspicious eyes,
unless they are taught suspicion.
They expect kindness from everyone,
unless they are taught cruelty.
Their nature is a trusting one,
unless their trust is broken.
As adults we carry the imprints from childhood,
sometimes more difficult to cast off,
than events experienced much later.
Like a footprint on freshly fallen snow,
that mars its pure essence.
So much care should be taken
in what we draw on that fresh new canvas.

It’s quiet through the old house,
although the wood seems to speak itself,
with creaks and noises afoot when all else is still.
The lights flicker in mutating, colored shapes across a darkened ceiling,
the only illumination in the room.
And all is in anticipation,
children sleeping but lightly enough so as to awaken quickly.
Their nerves filled with the awareness that magic is all around them,
magic whether it be true or be imagined is real just the same.
An innocent time,
where possibility stretches an endless length.
It’s quiet through the old house,
But all is wildly alive in anticipation.

from Considerations

Beginnings have no reason.
They are not marked until much has passed.
Endings seem clear,
sometimes final,
sometimes only a well-sheltered pause,
before all begins again.

The mind is kind.
It gives us what we can absorb,
shields us from what cannot be handled.
It softens the harshness in memory,
filtering it through a gentler light.
It closes doors that should be left behind,
but not completely, not perfectly sealed.
So that when life is calmer,
and the heart stronger
the door can be cautiously pried open.
And what was once intolerable,
can be revisited with a different perspective.

Sometimes when your world changes,
momentarily it goes unnoticed.
Life still runs you at a ragged pace,
and business moves you along from minute to minute.
Sometimes when the landscape shifts,
it’s not readily taken in.
Your life is lived on schedule,
meshed from one event to the next.
And it’s only when you finally stop,
reaching for a familiar signpost.
Your fingers stretched wearily, ready to grasp.
But  it’s not there, not where it should be.
Sometimes when your world changes,
you continue living in the old one,
until necessity makes that impossible.