Like the Child I Was

When I was a child

Life was different

Worries were different

I roamed the neighborhood with freedom


Had little control of my life

As an adult

I still roam my neighborhood with freedom

My neighborhood is much larger

But I still have little control of my life


There is some illusion of control

But the big things

Seem to happen

No matter what

Tornados hit

Loved ones die

Floods come

Fires happen

People steal your money

You have no control of those things

But one thing

One thing I can control

Is my happiness

I can choose

How to perceive the World

My World

I can hate

Feel despair

Feel alone



Find anger


I can choose

To find happiness

To find love

To find compassion

To be at peace

To be like the child I was

And enjoy this life

Enjoy being alive

No matter what


Copyright Don MacLeod


Taste of Infinity

I tasted Infinity last night
Right on the tip of my tongue
It’s sweetness was overwhelming
We danced in the moonlight of many earths
The suns were pinpricks, too many to count
The silence was deafening, but was a beautiful song
Our hearts were joy and we became one



Copyright Don MacLeod


This is the Boundary Waters

There’s nothing as special as the earliest morning light, as it spills over the horizon, reflecting in the tiny drops of dew hanging from the pine trees in the forest. The coolness of the fresh air, the silence of the lake and the haunting call from a loon somewhere out on the water.

This is morning in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and there is nothing like it anywhere else in the world. It’s tranquil and serene. It’s where my heart and soul regenerate and where my mind slips away from all time.

Where casting off in a canoe and setting my paddle into the water is like holding hands with a loved one. It’s a place where one can breathe and sleep undisturbed under an unequivocally and brilliantly depthless field of stars.

Industrialization has no place here, this is for the wild, the pure, the natural world where the bears roam and the deer wander and people can regain a sense of self and wonder.

This is where the rains soak deep into the thick moss carpeting islands of granite, replenishing groves of uncultivated, rich blueberries.

This is a haven of pure spiritualism, freedom and peace, this is the Boundary Waters

The Darkness Roams

The darkness roams the halls of our minds and beings
Poking here, pushing there, instilling fear where it can
Pushing doubt to the front of our awareness
The darkness calls, it beacons us with lavish lies of comfort and joy
Then pulls us in with dark remembrances that it feeds us over and over again
Let me comfort you it says
Telling the lies of our failures
Telling the lies of our faults
Telling the lies of our unforgivable things
Feel the joy of the suffering that you do so well
Insinuating itself into our everything, blinding our true vision
Reminding us of every little thing done or said wrong
Calling us deeper into our deserved suffering
Laying waste to any hope that we or our actions are redeemable
Opening the pit within showing us where we belong
Calling us deeper and deeper
The darkness grows, reaching out to our every fault
Our suffering is so great and deserved
Play with me, it says
I know you better, it says
I look after you, it says
I show you the truth, it says
But the redeemer walks those paths too
Handing out forgiveness we don’t know how to accept
We have practiced the suffering so long
Handing out the compassion we don’t know how to accept
We have practiced discordance so long
Beckoning to us with gifts of love we don’t know how to accept
We are practiced at darkness, we don’t know ways of light
The redeemer walks within shining lights so the shadows flee
We are practiced at darkness and think we are losing a parts of ourselves
The redeemer drops acceptance on our hurt places
We are practiced at darkness and think the hurt is precious
The redeemer walks with gentle steps of love
We are practiced at darkness and think it odd that our pain can dissipate
The redeemer beacons us with real comfort and joy
The darkness tells us it’s a lie
The redeemer shines brightly and says, follow my way
The darkness tells us we will lose what is ours
The redeemer shines brighter and shows the way
The redeemer brings light to the darkness and we lose ourselves
The redeemer brings light to the darkness and we find ourselves
The redeemer brings light to the darkness and
We become the light

Copyright Don MacLeod

The God we pray to

The God we pray to is the God of our pagan forefathers.
The God we pray to is the God of myths.
We do not pray to the true God.
We pray to the God of our ideas, of our religions
We pray to the God that we believe is like Santa Claus granting our wishes
We pray to a God in heaven so far away
We say that God is omnipresent, but we don’t really believe it
God is in heaven so far away
This is the God of our pagan forefathers
The true God is not so far away
Our true God is close
God being omnipresent, is then within every atom of our being
Not far away in Heaven
Why have we forsaken God and put him so far away
When our God is ever present in every breath, in every day, in every moment
When we, pray it’s assuming a separation
As if God doesn’t know our every want, our every desire, our every need
We pray because we feel lost
We pray with hope that we are not alone
We pray that there is a connection to God
Then what should we pray
We pray that we see
We pray that we see God close
We pray that we see God so close that God is all we see
We pray that we see the world through God’s eyes
We pray that we see God not so far away

Copyright Don MacLeod

As the Leaves Flutter By

We sat in the wind and watched the leaves flutter by

We spoke of the past, of dreams and loves lost.

Its quiet sitting there in the sun, she in her wheel chair,

me sitting beside her holding her hand.

She told me it wouldn’t be long, that she’d punched her ticket.

She said she wasn’t afraid, she said she had two husbands and a boyfriend she’d buried

waiting for her at the gates.

I told her I loved her and would miss her as I brushed the hair away from her quizzical eyes.

She told me not to fuss and that the next time I come not to bring her Key Lime Pie.

It’s been a year since my grandmother has passed, and on that next visit, that last day, I found myself

brushing aside her hair again.

She never made excuses; she never lied and never looked more beautiful, at peace, at rest.

I miss her today, and when I stand in the fall wind and close my eyes I can feel her all around me, she

will always be there, her voice carried in the breeze, her smile in rays of the sun.

Her love remains, as does mine.