Other writings of James Kavanaugh
Soft and Silent
Everything I love is soft and silent,
My cat, the morning, the end of day,
Even the moon in its way.
Everything I love is soft and silent,
The water, the forest, the snow at play,
Even the mountain in its way.
Everything I love is soft and silent,
The sun on the sand, a rainy day,
Even the wind in its way.
Everything I love is soft and silent,
The grass, the brook, the leaves at play,
Even you in your way.
-James Kavanaugh
Know This, My Friend
Know this, my friend,
I will never desert you.
I will be there when all have gone away,
When finally you have nothing more to say,
And there is no apparent reason ever for me to stay.
When all the fears of a lifetime
have crowded in on you
And every particle of your past
has lost all meaning,
When you cannot lift your head
or hold back the tears,
And you can no longer bear
the terror of your own ruminations,
When all your triumphs are as dust
that cannot hold you aloft,
And even the family you raised and loved
have no time for you,
I will be there
To bring you what joy and courage I can,
To remind you of all the beauty and wonder
you are,
To heal you with all the love I have,
To carry you, if need be, wherever you must go,
Only because you are my friend
And I will never desert you.
-James Kavanaugh
Dark Fear Fear stands like a dark forest without a path to freedom, As I wander helplessly amid its forboding presence. Fear emerges like a dark, cold mountain, snow capped and formidable, As I stare hopelessly at its massive resistance, Fear explodes like a roaring river, swollen and ripping at its banks, As I glance timidly at its unmeasured power. Fear screams like all the assembled, fiery demons of the earth's core. As I look in terror at its devouring appetite. Only courage remains, the least spark of David versus the gargantuan Goliath. But as courage holds its ground --- quietly, patiently, relentlessly, the trees slowly stand aside in the forest, the mountain silently bows its head, the river speaks more softly, the demons pause to listen, And the fortitude of a feeble man, frightened, but determined, Makes his way to peace and serenity and a quiet victory Over the most brutal and overwhelming fear.
-James Kavanaugh
Gentle Old Woman Gentle old woman with her shopping bag Shuffling through Kresge's to find a little yarn - just the right shade of purple - To hold her flowered hat in an unfriendly wind, "I almost lost it twice," she tells me, "And I thought it was a goner under the Greyhound bus." Fragile as a desert's fast-departing flower Wrinkled with memories and spotted like a child freckled in the sun Chuckling softly at her own feebleness, Finally satisfied with the delicate purple of a Jacaranda tree "Not too tight," she tells me, "No sense croaking before my time" Hat in place, crowned with faded flowers, She extracts three pennies from deep within her beaded purse, still determined to pay her way. I hold the heavy door, And watch her shuffle, still chuckling into the wind, Climbing her own Everest, Winning her own Olympics, Solving the day's problem with just the right shade of purple.