In My Dark Hours

In my dark hours,
Deserted,
Miserable,
Without hope of redemption,
In a world grown cold and colorless,
In the depth of my most personal failures,
I hear a soft voice,
Speaking calm words
With tenderness and tenacity,
Slipping through the black curtain
Of my defeat,
Pulling me back to life
From the perilous ledge
Of despair.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Today Is Her Birthday

Today is her birthday,
And each year as I grow old,
On this day I will measure
Her mark upon my soul.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Allergic

If I could choose how death will come
I’d like it to come as a sneeze,
One really big, sudden sneeze.

It would begin with an itching sensation,
Something advancing,
Growing,
Multiplying,
A tsunami,
Then,
One massive, uncontrollable sneeze
Seizing my entire body and soul.

The lights go out.

“What happened?”
Some would ask my wife,
My witness.

“He had an allergic reaction,”
She would explain,
“To life.”


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

The Wandering Lady Who Would Be A Saint

I see her around town,

The wandering lady.

She’s searching.

Yesterday she was in our neighborhood,

Walking tentatively up our driveways,

Toward our front doors.

Not here, the voice said.

She obediently turned away,

Still searching.

Over and over again,

The message:

Not here.

She was close once,

Finally in the right place,

She thought.

The police came and told her to leave.

She was back the next night.

So were the police.

“I’m looking for the Lord,” she told them.

“He came out of that purple cloud.

“He called me.”

“I’ve got to find him,

“Tell him I’m ready now.

“I’ve given everything away.

“I’ve given everything up.

“I’m nobody now,

“I’m ready now."

“O Lord, can’t you hear me?”

“Not here,” the voice said.

“Not now.”

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved