Limousine moments...

The moments stretched
Like limousines
In funeral procession.
Each long and dark,
Appearing the same.
But, riding in each one,
A different memory.
Some familiar and often seen.
Some seen but once,
Then never again.
Like family gathered
To say good-bye,
Some better known than others,
But all present out of love.

They passed one after another,
Carrying their flowers
For his resting place.
Each pausing briefly
To be certain
I took notice.
Then, in tears,
Each departed—
Leaving a flower.
To dry, but remain.
To be treasured
As its color fades.
And kept
Forever.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2001
Written in 2001, remembering the night I sat with my father while he gently passed away.

And Jesus weeps with all of the mothers...

Something to think about...

As so many mothers weep for their missing and murdered daughters, I am certain that Our Lord weeps with them, and for them.  I am appalled by the numbers, which are staggering.  I am appalled by the degree to which we have allowed this to happen. And now, I weep and pray with the mothers, and fathers, and siblings, and children...

"Jesus wept."

Gospel of John, chapter 11, verse 35

We’re just driftin’...

We're just driftin'...
by Joseph Weilenbeck

I’m afraid that we’re just driftin’

Just driftin’ you and me.

We think we’re headed for the harbor

When in fact we’re all just driftin’ out to sea.

I once knew a man

Who took himself a wife.

They made a vow that they would cherish one another

Every moment of their life.

They both worked their jobs

Long hours every day.

Now they come home late at night

And go to bed without a single word to say.

They don’t know that they’ve been driftin’.

They’re just as blind as they could be.

They thought they’d anchored in safe harbor

When in fact they were just driftin’ out to sea.

And like them we’re all driftin’

Just driftin’ you and me.

We all think we’ll make the harbor

But it seems we just keep driftin’ out to sea.

They once had a boy

They had such great joy at his birth.

Filled with every hope and promise

They thought that he would surely change this earth.

He did all of his homework.

Passed his tests and got his grades.

Now he hides inside in a room and tries

Just livin’ through his pipe and spoon and blades.

Cause all the time he’s just been driftin’

As far away as he could be.

They thought he’d sail into the harbor

But instead he slowly drifted out to sea.

Like him I fear that we’re all driftin’

Yes we’re driftin’ you and me.

Though our demons may be different

The truth is we’re still driftin’ out to sea.

I once knew a pastor

Could preach to reach the dead.

He longed to save all those who’d listen

To the words he said.

He built himself a church

To be a shelter from the storm.

But when the doors were closed and locked

He could not find a single soul to keep him warm.

He found he’d just been driftin’

Though he thought he had the key.

He tried to point the way to harbor

But instead his eyes were fixed upon the sea.

In our own way we’re all just driftin’

Just driftin’ you and me.

Each day no closer to the harbor

But each day we’re so much farther out to sea.

Now we say we have a Savior

Went to the cross that we’d be saved.

We say He died for all our sins

But just the same we go on sinnin’ every day.

Each week we go to church

Where we bow and sing and pray.

We think we’re on our way to Heaven

When in fact we’re all just travelin’ our own way.

We even read the Holy Book

Read some chapters every day.

We say we’re changin’ in our hearts

But we know mostly we’re just learnin’ words to say.

We close our eyes and keep on driftin’.

We’re just driftin’ aimlessly.

And lest we turn back to the harbor

Very soon we’ll be forever lost at sea.

But all the same we go on driftin’

We just keep driftin’ you and me.

The harbor’s faded far behind

While you and me, we just keep driftin’ out to sea.

 -- Joseph Weilenbeck June 17, 2012 

Acknowledgement: The message and rhythm of this poem are inspired by 

the words and rhythm of  Paul Simon's "Slip Slidin' Away"

Where my family rests...

On a peaceful hill

in the bright sun

under a clear blue sky

in hallowed ground
among the brave

they rest

Father
Mother
Brother

One day
I will
join them

Where My Family Rests  © 2018 Joseph Weilenbeck

Santa Fe National Cemetery

I cut myself...

I cut myself
   and yes I bleed.
But I know it's not
   a lasting deed.
The flesh will heal
   and the pain will steal
   away.

Not so with
   cutting words I hear.
My mind they burn...
   my heart they sear.
They bring their pain
   and then remain
   to stay.

So I see myself
   through darkened eyes.
Shades of truth...
   tints of lies...
All the same,
   inside they came
   to me.

Now time passes
   but yet they thrive.
And in quiet moments
   come alive.
I hear them call,
   and then they're all
   I see.

Seems kind words live,
   but silently.
While the harshest
   cry out endlessly.
First, lying in wait,
   then screaming in hate
   they come.

So, I cut myself
   and yes I bleed.
But there is a point
   to my pointless deed.
Before they take me
   I just want to make me
   numb.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2017
In empathy for all who have been hurt and scarred so deeply by the hateful words of others.

This Morning’s Sun Need Ne’er Have Shown

Why do you lie beside me still

    And stir not least upon my touch?
Do you lack strength, or maybe will,
    My trembling hand to even clutch?

Does morning hold no promise bright
    To coax your sleeping eyes awake?
Will they not lift but ever slight,
    In pity, my worst fears to take?

Why do your lips now grow so cold,
    Though bathing in the sun’s warm glow?
Is there not another kiss they hold?
    Nor one more smile for them to show?

Does your heart not have another beat,
    That I could feel upon my own?
If not, ‘tis all of my defeat.
    This morning’s sun need ne’er have shown.

Joseph Weilenbeck December, 1998 
Written in sympathy for a friend - whose husband unexpectedly passed away in their bed one morning

Karen's Eyes

Karen Carpenter (Photo Origin Unknown)

Karen's eyes
won't let me go.
So long closed.
So long still.
But still
they haunt me.

I see her eyes.
I see their light.
I see their darkness.
Beautiful eyes,
but sad.
Eyes that gave,
but could not receive.

I see the tears
we never saw.
I hear them fall
when I hear her song.
Each word...
each note...
looking for hope
while carried on a tear.

Eyes that I never knew
now touch my soul.
Tears that I never saw
now wash my heart...
then find their way
to my own eyes.

And as I listen
I see
Karen's eyes.
So long closed.
So long still.
And still
they haunt me.
Karen's eyes
won't let me go.

 Joseph Weilenbeck
~ after the anniversary of her death - February 4, 2017 ~

My Mother's Tears

My mother's tears

pour from her eyes
like the summer rain
on the mesa.
But they never touch me.
They never reach
the barren ground
that hides me.

My flesh,
my blood
long turned to sand,
leave only my bones...
lying and waiting
for my mother's tears

to find me.

Screams from the night,
from an endless night,
searched for an ear to hear.
But no one would hear
and no one would come.
Now only my bones
are left to cry out.

So, from my desert grave
again I scream.
But still
no one comes.
And my mother's tears
wait to find me.

Night after night
I look down
on the city.
But I have no eyes
to see the lights.
And day after day
I bake in the sun
and wait in the dark
for my mother's tears
to find me.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2015

For those found, and yet to be found, on Albuquerque's West Mesa -- and for their families.
Do not forget them, nor those not yet found.

Like a ship within a storm...

Author's note:  I wrote this poem and song in 1992, as my father lay gravely ill. For a month, I stayed with him at the hospital.  My mother, as well as my wife, daughter, and sister stayed nearby.  I left the hospital only briefly for an occasional meal with my family.  I spent hours in meetings with doctors. I spent even more hours in the Chapel with my mother, praying for Dad and for strength to face whatever was to be. Dad experienced days of rallying, and days of decline.  Hope for recovery soon gave way to the beginning of grief, as he continued to weaken, and his condition continued to deteriorate.  I spent the last night in near darkness by his bedside, as life slowly left his body. I prayed, and wept, and gave thanks to God for this man who meant so much to me.  In the middle of this month-long ordeal, I wrote these words.

Like a ship within a storm...
by Joseph Weilenbeck

Lord, I don’t know how
I’ll make it through
Another day.
It seems the things
I’ve counted on
Are slipping fast away.

There is nothing near
That I can see
And cling to for support.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
And far from any port.

The stress is high.
The day is long.
I’m frightened and alone.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
So very far from home.

I feel despair
Engulfing me.
I fear that I will drown.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
With no hope of reaching ground.

I’m at the edge
Where I can see
No future but to die.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
Her stern tipped toward the sky.

I make one final
Desperate plea
To You in my distress.
Just like a ship
Within a storm—
Sending one last SOS.

Then with Your faithful love
You lift me
High above the storm.
And wrap protecting
Arms around me—
Keeping me from harm.

My fears now calmed,
My hope restored,
I know I’m not alone.
Just like a ship
Still in the storm—
But safely heading home.


Joseph Weilenbeck 1992