SORROW ILLUMINATING THE BEAUTY OF LIFE
I stood on the edge of the development
at the end of where nature
became insufficient somehow;
I took a deep breath, pondering
as I watched a flock of coots
paddle quietly but deliberately
away from us humans,
and I looked to the fare shore:
Pillars rose imperceptibly above
the still, dark lake, and I found
myself transported to the era
where those pillars supported
entire trains, entire communities
along that shore, when we humans
found walking invigorating,
and train trips acceptable. I witnessed
the whole economy of that little village
along the shore flourish and vanish
with the railroad
the era the ethic, the very age.
I step back from the edge
wondering if I could live
in such a place. I ponder more,
as the coots slowly return.
Wherever I live
I hope to leave my own
small footprint.
Nothing more.
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© 2023 Keith Deshaies
written 2/20/04
Where I Am Now
When I sit quietly
The symphony begins
Slowly the strings of memory
Come to life and
The vibrations conjure a voice
In ecstasy, in closeness, in union
And as the oboe begins its solo
I hold a warm hand under the caves
Out of the rain, eyes holding tenderness
Such a pure time, long time ago
And as the tympani shakes my foundation
Turning the pages of distrust and fear,
The raw torment of something beautiful
Dying hopelessly, helplessly, swiftly,
Tears wash into the present and the violins
Cry, too. The piano cradles the psyche and my
Eyes open to a new soul, brave soul,
No remorse or regret, just present.
The sun ends the symphony
And I sit and watch the sea
Relentlessly carving a new world.
© 2023 Keith Deshaies
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DEDICATED TO TOM AND ANNA:
Old Friends, New Friends
Dark places on the water
Puget Sound deep and cold,
Blackness interrupted night
crashing passively on ragged shore.
Winter settles in, cold blanket
wrapping four friends
in a small island house:
threat of snow welcome
against a futile backdrop
of Workingworld, Mondayworld,
bleak promises of capital happiness
all dwarfed by the immense
warmth of the little house
on the little bluff
above the benign waves,
evergreen dark black shadow
odd foreboding flagging attempts
to shirk the other worlds we know,
we know too well.
Time to reflect, hold each other,
play dumb games, drink too much,
eat too much, there exists never
enough. We must live here always.
Always now, always present.
Cooking together in the little bright
kitchens with savory smells
and rich fragrant thyme.
The Poetry of Keith Deshaies
Keith's Bio:
Keith Raymond Deshaies was born on November 17,1964 in Rochester, New Hampshire to Raymond and Claire Deshaies. Keith grew up in Somersworth, New Hampshire where he developed a lifelong enthusiasm for trains, a gift for wood working, and a love of the written word. He relocated to the Seattle area in 1986, where he spent time in the Japanese Studeies department at the University of Puget Sound. Keith was an avid bicyclist, completing the Seattle to Portland race in 1989. From 1990 to 199 Keith lived in Belling with his first wife, Laurel, and their two children, Becca and Aaron. In 2000, Keith completed the Excellence Series through the Excellence Foundation where he met his wife, Jennifer. In 2005, he returned to the Bellingham area and converted to Buddhism. he actively participated in local and national politics, and became a senior managing editor for Northwest Progressive Institute. Keith died of a massive heart attack on April 4, 2008 in his beloved lakeside home. His love of quirky humor, vast intelligence, and fondness for fountain pens will be remembered and missed by all who love him.
In a journal entry shortly before his death, he described himself:
I am a Democratic Socialist Buddhist Technical Writing Novelist wannabe with sleep apnea and migraines with a great family, great house, great life, really, and I don't want to stop until I've changed the world.
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