Friday, March 10, 2017


The infant rage, not searing pain, you faux think it touched like the rain. 
It runs down in a channeled place, you make it flow and leave no trace.
It’s easy to forget it’s there as one drop two, then pair by pair,
You can hardly tell but your mind does know when time to time a gushing flow 
makes you gag the angered pitch and in control you hide the itch.
Silently and out of sight you dump what holds a tearful fight.
Yes I said it, if the truth be had, not drops of water touching land,
but the tears squeezed from deep injury, fierce nature rejecting inquiry
of innocence and gentile care who’d dump the lot and face the fear.
Without a sign or even flinch this is no forgery or glitch.
It will not go or look away.  It won’t be silent or leave the fray.
You no longer can bear the load, not one more step forward down the road
The crushing weight from deep within has you stretched so very thin.
But that drop will come, it is in the books, like a loss to salvation’s crook
That care not your dire straight their blinds drawn shut to others fate
‘til the shell of you slums lifelessly at the roadside not a sight is freed.
But gratefully your soul retreats no longer bearing anything
As tiny as that infant rage you’ve gone unnoticed from future gaze.

Sunday, January 29, 2017


Yesterday, Jan 28th, it was  10 years since my Mother passed away.

In July it will be 6 years since the loss of my Father.

March 7th it will be 17 years since my Sara came and went.

This Thanksgiving will be 20 years since losing my Grandma Lorraine.

This year it will also be 28 years since losing my Grandpa Burge.

The time flies as we get on with things.  Occasionally we have a fleeting glimpse of those missing.

We choke up, we may even cry but for certain our heart aches for the lost potential.

But time moves on. 6, 10, 17, 20 , 28 years pass and to our human eyes our relationships seem forever static.

I know they aren't, but to our human understanding it seems that way.

I long for the interaction and growth.  I miss that most.

I cant help to think they miss it too.  Absence on either side has to be equally painful.

At some point we will catch up, we will reminisce, we will fill each other in.

It will seem like no time has passed but fresh on our minds will be the separation.

Will we appreciate more, pay attention more and not take for granted.

Is this the reason of our separation?

I miss all of you.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

I have spent years betraying me
For causes just or naught
I killed dreams, underachieved.
Was mean, dead, ill tempered.
I stopped good things, started bad things
Even though my heart sang a different song.
I denied blessings to me and mine.
I can no longer sin against my existence
I will dictate me
My false walls of protection will crumble
My excuses and justifications
Fade to nothing
I am me
And will forever be.

Saturday, March 19, 2016

One Man's Burden

I bear the burden of a million years, a million people and a million tears.

But this deep silence haunts every thought, not what I sought or what I wrought.

But faultless I will never be in many things not this especially.

This pain, pressure, regret, sorrow, anger, fear and heart so hollow

Are my millstone right or not; to carry or let go, what ought?

The lights have dimmed and faltered in my soul forever altered.

The hope extinguished just the same, turned from great foundation to total shame.

From as far as I could see to what will never be.

Face in hand and heart dead still, I face what’s left without a will.

This silent burden smothering me, killing me, until nothing is left of me.

I die.

Tuesday, March 15, 2016


Explosion of the truthful state,
blows up the mind, tears up the eye, shreds the hurtful lie.

When confronted the movie of a thousand years,
exposes futility, clutters tranquility, mocks the use of try.

The foundation of people crumbles,
taking all structure, killing all venture, making each living cell cry.

The soul of the cell fouls to black,
The movement ceases, it shrinks and creases, leaving only blight,

but still stoic stands the man,
swallowing his death, hides stolen breath, traveling still, lost in fright.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Late this morning we passed 9 years since my mother left us.  There are many images form those final couple of days that play through my mind.  Memories of a cold January Sunday not only because of the snow across the ground but the imminent departure of my Mother.  The weeks had been brutal to her, in fact the months prior had not been nice either.  We had been with her on a roller coaster of emotion seemingly something new at every turn that must be dealt with internally and externally.  For me I put off even the mere thought that she would not beat this because not doing so would somehow give the disease a greater hold on her.  

Oh I wish that life were like so many Christmas movies that  put out the concept that the possession of Christmas spirit in a person would cause magical things to happen.  If we were just positive always ready to do battle...If we never believed the worst that it couldn't and wouldn't happen.  But life is not that way.  In the last month of her life, that cold January, we had to resolve ourselves to the worst. 

The telling trip to Cottonwood hospital New Years eve exposed the mortality of both my Mom and Dad where my Dad collapsed  filling out paperwork to admit my Mother. We split our time between the 2nd and 5th floors caring to both.  I think that was the turning point for me.  It was too serious.  This was a hill that she would not make it over.  I do not think I realized what a turning point this was for my Father until a few years later.

The trail of this existence is long and as mortals in this mortal life we will as some point bow out to let those we love carry on.  Those will have to do so with only the lessons they have been taught.  At times we will make those that have passed before us proud.  I am afraid my mother has face palmed at my behavior more than I would ever like to admit.

Nine years ago we gathered to bid my Mother farewell but it was a mere formality.  Our quality interactions were behind us except hopefully for a few last mortal words meant to console us through the rest of our lives. Mine thankfully were the exchanged "I Love You".  Then she is gone.  Then nine years have passed.  

I honor my Mother for the exalted place she holds in my existence.  For the parts of me that are her, physically, mentally, morally and spiritually. I miss you.

Sunday, January 10, 2016

Emotional Death,
Searing yet empty.
Standing in the deep end of an empty swimming pool.
Knowing what full should feel like and feeling the opposite.
Something must be done.
Is it my fault?
Could I change?
Pain says, “Who cares?”
What ifs are bygones.
No matter, no optimistic view,
its shattered by the hammer of reality.
Coming back with this person or that,
To torment me?
It digs at that empty space
until once again I reach for that hammer.
They don’t know what they say!
Maybe I don’t know!
How could I not know?
How could I not know?
How could I not know?

Echoes from the walls of the empty pool.

michael burge 2008