Overnight in a Strange Place
I take years to fall asleep Once in sleep the ages pass Until a dream of death awakens me.
I am far from my surroundings Though they close me in. I am the misplaced renegade Seeking mercy from sin.
Here is the stranger in this world Who yearns for the secret Shrine. Paths wind within As the Friend shines.
-- CS Cholas 15 July 1993, Fort Collins, Colorado
The Reflection
He had (every) reason to be angry
And yet no reason at all;
Betrayed by love, by friends,
By superiors, yet
Befriended by the poor and lowly
Of the town.
Told to take a Hard look at himself,
He went to a nearby pond
Stared at his face in the subtle ripples
The distorted bending of his features,
‘til he threw not a pebble,
But a sizeable rock in the middle
Of his watery reflection and watched
His face explode into numberless bits
Of light, color, and shadows on the surface.
It felt good to see his own form eventually
Come back together on the pond,
Gently wavering, slowly simmering
Into a clearer picture of who he was.
C. S. Cholas, undated
