THE EMPTY ROOM

Picture
You may be gone
But not forgotten
You may be somewhere else
But I know you’re still around
Your room is gone quiet
Yet I still hear you
Your chair may be empty all day long
But I still feel you and know you’re not gone

Some try and console me
They tell me they’re sorry
Yet I can’t hear them through the tears I cry

So sad and so lonely
And so full of worry
Even though I know it’s true
I know you did not die

There is no death, there are no dead
We do not die after this life we’ve lead
There is a more peaceful place
A heaven above
There is no death, or there is no love

Every day, every moment I think of you
And the memories we had
And I have my times when I don’t know what to do
Because my heart hurts so bad
The littlest sound or a gentle breeze
A special song, a baby’s sneeze
No matter how long my life will be
You live, and live well
In my heart you see

I don’t have all the answers
I don’t know how or why
And even through all the pain and tears
I know you did not die
​
There is no death, there are no dead
We do not die after this life we’ve lead
There is a more peaceful place, a heaven above
There is no death, or there is no love

©2012 Joseph P. Shiel, lll

The Edge of Wilderness ....

The Edge of Wilderness Original Poetry by Joseph P Shiel lll
 encourages all of us to rise up against any idea that suggests we are not one in this world, created for the discovery of that truth.  The book exposes the light of intricacies and the connected fractal nature of life, allowing us to see that our shared existence is necessarily interdependent so that we rage against the darkness.  This work is a prompt to explore the verities of the beaches we walk, leaving no shell or stone unturned and to not only avoid getting lost or caught in the wilderness of pain and struggle but rather to reach for all the connections, relations and gifts of this experience; to live awake to the texture, color, music and rhythm of this our communion earth.

A LIGHT RAIN

A light rain sprawls itself over
The green blanket of the holler
Dragging down the morning fog
To rest upon the tobacco beds
Again I find myself
Winding down the blue grass mountains
Stumbling into prayer
Watching the mortar of my walls
Crack and shatter
The whisper says
“Let go, let the Lord work”
A light rain sprawls itself over
The flesh of my face
Dragging down the blanket of fears
To rest upon the bed of my heart
They gently rustle in the breeze of my soul
Shaped by God’s hands
The edges smooth to a soft roll
Like the hills so abundantly
Given me in the blessings
Of Kentucky

© Joseph P. Shiel, lll

JOE'S PRAYER FOR MEDIUMSHIP