At Least

at least we
met each other
at least we
told our tales

at least we
had good times
at least we
voiced our fears

at least we
have our memories
at least we
share the pain

Wood Smoke

a welcome scent
on winter nights
when frigid air
invades our soul

a sense of hope
from deep within
a human trait
from long ago

the smell of heat
and vital food
of brilliant flames
that kept us safe

and even now
we still respond
to burning wood
the scent of home 

Doubt

born of reason
seldom loved
condemned aloud
by men of faith

despised by those
who make the rules
this urge to know
disrupts their plan

when love explodes
within your heart
this inborn trait
may quell its fire

but if it's truth
we humans seek
then doubt alone
admits the light

He Loved to Sing

he loved to sing
is what they say
in days of youth
for all to hear

he used to sing
before he knew
that others judge
what others do

he used to sing
before the doubt
that must arise
in search of truth

he used to sing
before the pain
that love can bring
if not returned

and now he knows
just why he quit
and why it was
he loved to sing

Freedom

in youth a time
of threats and fear
and stirring hymns
in stained glass light

then came the doubt
that knowledge brings
and word of crimes
within the church

so freedom rose
a gift of truth
and now my faith
in kindness lies