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Political Commentary


Somewhere, through all the mist and clouds
Somewhere in the darkness you are there.
The beauty of the sunset and the ocean’s power,
and the horror of tsunamis, tornados, and volcanoes — 
all say that you must be there.

Why all things are alive and strive then die,
why crippled bodies and torn souls hurt and cry;
why men can learn all but “Why”?
and cannot love the shame

and sadness and pain we see
as much as the power and grandeur of the earth and sky —
all these things I do not understand
all say that you must be there


But they do not tell me who you are,
or what you are, or what you want,
or why you have made all this.
So how can I know you know me
care for me, try to save me?
Only the bleeding hands of Jesus,
touching, healing, and changing me,
telling me you want me happy
make me think you know I’m here.
Through all the mists and clouds,
Right here.

Romance for the ages

Through the mist they run,
run to embrace and kiss.
Exploring hands and lips
seek by touch and feel
with a knife-like need
to share a time of bliss.
Bodies entwined,
they become as one,
remembering each the same
as long before the mists became.


                   A part of me, a part of God.                                                      

Sobs of women strangle the heat.

The priest’s monotone – the final stillness,

the spade and the digger and the black earth

for this part of God and part of me.


No more these nostrils quiver full,

no more his eyes will ripen growing things,

no more his hair caressed by sweeping breezes,

nor his fingers light on things and me –

this part of God and part of me.


Walking crunches grass and gravel.

The birds still sing uselessly.

People talk, motors start,

and transient as exhaust smoke

 the memory of this glorious, living part of God,

but this dead, dead part of me.

My Little Brother

In memoriam. Phil Fedewa (1942-2009)

May he rest in peace                                         

A flash of red hair,

a freckle or two or three

a shy smile and crinkling eyes

why Little Brother did you die today?


You were a funny kid

an honest man, a quiet leader

a fearless soldier, a selfless father,

why, Little Brother, did you die today?


Your sons still need you,

your brothers still care from afar,

your sister, daughters, babies cry,

“Why, oh why did you have to die?”

The sun is black,

the wind so cold,

your shadow is here

but you are gone.

I Walk This Shallow Earth

In memoriam Stan Fedewa (1939-2014) May he rest in peace

I walk this shallow earth                                     

hollowed out by death and grief

knowing that my brother lies beneath.


The days of sun and youth and vigor

have vanished into times of gray much bigger

than the memories of all those years

we shared our joys and fears and tears

knowing always we could stand together

in any kind of troubled weather

if no one else was there

to help and understand and care.

Now my brother lies at rest

beyond every trial and test

beyond the bonds of life and bother

beyond the reach and touch of me,

his brother.

My Son, My Son

In memory of Rupert Wyard (died June 25, 2018)

My son, my son, I leave you now. 

It was not my choice to say good-bye 

when you are still so young and now 

must face alone he greatest choices of your life– 

of schooling, jobs and love and marriage. 


I, your father, will never see you as a man, 

as grown to the fullness of your strength 

with beard and back and standing tall 

amidst the storms and joys of years and all. 

I will not be there as you walk 

the paths of times to come. 


But I leave to you the joys 

and lessons of the times we shared 

and ask that you carry on 

my burdens and my cares 

while I lay at rest as 

my soul cries out to God above 

to take my place as your shield from harm 

and lead you through the life I cannot follow, 

for I today have left you now to walk alone. 

The Lion Sleeps

In memoriam: James Goeser (1941-2017)
May he rest in peace

Like a lion, he searched the plains          

and found a way to stake his claims. 

With vision, purpose, strength and grit, 

he stayed the course and never quit.  

He made the village on the plain  

a place to live and work and gain  

a life with kids, and love and games.   


Now the Lion sleeps, his work is done. 

His quiet strength has won 

his place at the Savior’s feast. 

But here the village weeps. 

The dawn breaks and the sky is black,   

the Lion is gone and never coming back.  

I Walked Among the Clouds

[Norman and Agnes Fedewa at the beginning (1935). She left him alone 60 years later. He died within 2 years

I walked among the clouds until I saw

that you had gone and left us all.

Alone, I looked and cried to God above

to bring you back to my home and love.


I needed the warmth of your tender body

and the strength of your steadfast soul,

and the laughter of your sneaky eyes.

Alone, the candle of my life was dark and cold.


But nothing now could bring you back.

The sound and sense of life were gone for good.

How I cried and, weeping, cursed the God above.

I was so, so lost without my precious love.



But then I thought of where you were.

I saw you in a better place and waiting there

for me to come and love me once again

and light the candle in your man.


Now my life goes on and I must walk alone

and try to live with open heart and open hand,

turning sorrow into grace with anger banned,

hoping love returns to melt my heart of stone.