Posts Tagged ‘death’

What is Left?

After death
what is left?
When heart break wins
what remains?
Melting skin and
spirit sweats,
what is there and
what has left?
Broken dreams or
family gone,
so it seems some
more sad songs,
life remains, life remains
but what is left?
One more time or
every time
a mirror shows a
sad soul blind
to all the wonders
that are left,
that are left,
after rage, war, and death.

The world is
still there somehow,
love is left,
love is left,
If only it filled
every breath.


Kyle McHale         2014


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Ticking Travel

Venture to a most peaceful spot,
In city, or woods, or vast plains,
A spot to slow the inner clock,
To slow the beating of the brain.

Stop the flooding head of much,
Too much to bear, feel, and see,
All little clocks with ticking parts,
All tiny thoughts that visit me.

Nothing can work all at once,
The world with its timing,
All little greased up ticking parts,
All long roads with their winding.

That dry desert road once had all
The dreams I always tried to chase.
To get there and find them full of
Dry land, filth, and dusty waste

Let my vision pass itself
To see the green road up ahead,
Led to a rotting jungles end,
A jungle with its spirit dead.

Each road of ice, fire, and rain,
Had an end of freeze, burn, and flood,
At expense just one ticking part,
One part brain, one part drop of blood.

For blood the grease that works the ticks,
Which vision knows to change with it,
Where I let the stars and the moon
Consume my thoughts for a little bit

You may have just heard the water.
For I saw a streaking vast sky,
A place too large for all my blood,
You may have seen a fish swim by

To stare at you, to read your thoughts,
To understand the driving force,
Because complete had time to wait
To think about the one true source.

All perceptions to contemplate,
Though one part lost in each pure spot,
A piece gained from water and rock,
From thick jungle air steaming hot.

Once pulse slows down to learn something
And experience is gained,
The ticking body falls apart,
All blood bleeds out with pouring rain,

Yet peace may have flocked to the heart,
All peaceful spots become the same.
To see, to live, to think, to do,
To bleed, to die, to know what’s tame,

To feel the parts left out there,
To know they are filled by those places,
Blood has mountain jungle in it,
Peaceful things fill up those spaces.

To remember, cherish, and save,
To smile on earth, and in grave.

Kyle McHale      2009

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Silence and Light

One night I felt the heavy weight,
The heavy heart and heavy ache.
I questioned loss and thought of faith,
How you departing was a waste.

A simple night, and I alone
Looked over what was once your home,
A single pack of clouds rolled by,
Cumulus night in quiet sky.

Silence heard and silence felt,
I peered into the puffy heart
Of what became an opening,
A tunnel of a strange type thing,

A portal with no end in sight,
Then a silent flash of violent light,
A few more still, then gone it was,
I in simple awe because

I knew it was you, it was you,
Letting me see what you could do.
I know that we go to a place
Beyond that seen by simple grace,

And that you rumbled for me so,
Gives strength in knowing where we go.
Magnificence in simple-ness,
When subtle truth is not missed.

Do not invite me in just yet,
Those that knew you will not forget,
Silent rumble protect my soul
On earth until your light I’ll go.

Kyle McHale     2012

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That Spot on the Trail

Chances are you’ll wait for me
At that spot out on the trail,
That spot I know that I have seen
Where beams follow that light trail.

And tailing out from sacred place,
The stones, the view, the forest leaves,
All breathing and dancing deep,
At last at peace, at last at ease.

Chances are you’ll wait for me,
Your tattered medal on your shirt,
In life wisdom is loneliness
And bravery is left on dirt.

But in it all I feel you now,
The order of things all in place,
That spot on the trail in dreams,
Becomes awake as real place.

As you guard, protect, and see,
That spot where gentle wind derives,
Chances are that you are there
To watch where all comes alive.

For with that gentle wind I know,
It travels to the sea from there,
To help the sails push on through,
To gently move through salt kissed air.

Guiding all from that trail spot,
Good company I know you’ll keep,
To show the others all you know,
To let the world beat so deep.

Then when I think of brotherhood,
I remember your handshake,
That so few sons and fathers shared,
In death, in life, asleep, awake.

The natural forces weigh on me,
When I think that I may fail,
That place will be there that we know,
That sacred spot on honored trail.

Kyle McHale      2010

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The Trees are With Me

Me: “For if I could endure it all
To make it through this dreadful fall,
When my father left with the leaves
To catch and glide that color breeze,

I may see what my father’s done,
Taking pride as his oldest son,
That clarity in autumn light,
That calling out, those pleasant nights,

Where I can send a fire out
Of whipping tails sending up,
Into the space my father went,
Warming all that pain he felt,

And gently touching life’s great web,
Listening to what those trees said.”

The Trees: “We have your father, he is here,
We have his heart out everywhere,

Let us touch you with our grace,
Your father’s heart’s in natural place,
When you gaze towards heaven’s glow,
When you are lost and want to know,

The Great Maker has taken care
Of his brave spirit in the air,
For you know what type he was,
Part wolf and bear, eagle and dove,

Part sea and land, part guiding hands,
Part father, brother, teacher, friend.
You see we needed him so much,
So that his soul could finally touch

All it earned in a mortal life,
To never feel a lonely night,
But you must stay and find that out,
Seek guidance in the spirit clouds,

Then closer to the heart you’ll be,
Yours and his beat beautifully.”

Me: “Dear trees I’m still travelling lost,
I stand where place and time do cross,
I’ll stay with fire close to ground,
I’ll stay lost and hope I’m found

By where my father’s heart has touched,
By how he filled my life with love.
Enjoy his heart in autumn moon,
I’ll see him again but no time soon.

Be at peace with everything,
I’ll look for you when eagles sing.”

Kyle McHale      2010

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To you, to you, I pray to you,
For all you did, and all you do.
What’s left of you for us to see?
You dressed in black tranquility.

An open space, a casket grave,
Reminds us beauty that you gave,
And at your final resting place
We sat, we cried, wished for your face,

But not in ground and left to fall,
We placed you in a Turkish wall,
My hands said farewell then let go,
A moment I ignored to know.

But then I knew that you were there,
Because those wings of flapping air
That you loved in butterflies,
Beautiful movement in the skies,

On the large arched window glass,
There stood a large green creature that
Some of us saw and pointed out,
Keeping quiet, wanting to shout.

It sat with heaven for a time,
No place for this large butterfly,
Maybe it was a lunar moth,
Either way, my breath stayed soft,

Until the pastor’s words were done,
Then opened the glass into the sun,
The lovely spy took magic flight,
Then graced us with movement delight,

And circled round the podium,
Then flew out to kingdom come,
Into the golden open spot,
A summer field, golden hot,

Swaying grass and wild flowers,
Forgetting long dreary hours.
So we knew you said goodbye,
You knew we loved you, so did I.

Your family felt the pain the most,
And knew a time of your ghost,
I want your children to grow well,
Beautiful, with life to tell.

In all things and flying motion,
Your faith in God, and the ocean,
A painting that you gave me once
Of crashing waves and sandy bumps

Calms me down when life is steep,
In all those waves the oceans keep
Your love against the shores of sand.
I let you pass right through my hands

To let you go and be with Him,
Where faith meets love and all else ends.

Kyle McHale      2010

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