Don’t Begin

To go there
Today, as a memory
To feel the rusted church gate
Slowly open
To gently lay the flowers
To quietly say the prayers
To have loved is to have known

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Don’t End

I hear a story
Of a lost unborn child
I once was taken to the grave
Of a lost unborn child
Nothing is stolen
Nothing is given
To have loved is to have known

To have shared
Was an honour
Such privilege
May not now be discarded
No one is innocent
No one is guilty
To have loved is to have known

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Gifts Of You

We are led to tears
By our own exposures
Exploring our personal sufferings
Gives food for our thoughts

Sit in the warm sun
Sit in the cold snow
Sit with the breeze to your back
Sit with the light in your eyes

We are led to our smiles
By our very own discoveries
Witnessing our lives
Gives energy to everyone’s day

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First Base

This is a seat
Where to be
Is to belong

This is the track
To the storytelling cabin
Where I might sign up

I could learn to understand
Then explain, just how
This magical place came to be

That may be
A most worthwhile undertaking
But one I could work on, at home

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Give What You Can

We are drawing to a close
Although the last session
Ends late tomorrow morning

But this is our final Family Dharma
Where deep issues are brought
To the surface, to be opened out

Today I will tell of a letter
Which I wrote to my father
More than thirty years ago

It is for Karen
Who is thinking, maybe
Of writing to her father

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