“Old Rugged Cross”

Through Harold’s Lens:

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Rusty nails
Crippling pain
Holy tears.

The Father
The Son
The Holy Spirit.


“Help From On High”


Through Harold’s Lens:

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Ave Maria. Schubert Opera:

Touching our Lord
Draped in cascading folds of gold
The Immaculate Conception.

Nestled below
Silently in prayer
Whispers of peace
Whispers of help
Whispers for our poor.

Draped in flowing folds of white
Sisters of the Immaculate Conception.

Wrinkled old man
Rags of threads
Rags of holes
Shuffles slowly

Soft knock
Rugged mesquite door
Rusted hinge creaks
Angelic face
From within.

Humbled old man
Gnarled hands
Paints cross on chest
Head bows.

Aging hands of love
Quietly pass nourishment.

Of love
Of comfort

Old old
Our sick
Our poor
Our lonely.


“Soft Side Of Love”


Through Harold’s Lens:

Small Coptic Orthodox Church
Slowly with reference
Little boy
Pass through holy

Idolizing eyes look up
Into proud eyes

Aging slim legs
Young tiny feet

Down long hallowed carpet.

Kneeling together
Deep prayer.

Aged dark wooden pew
Small family
Shufflles sideways.

Not alone
The Father
The Son
The Holy Spirit.

Alone moment
Quiet moment.

Crinkled hands
Young fingers

Quietly arise.

Candles aglow

Little hand
Guided by
Wilted hand
Touch flame to flame.

Deep thought
Rolling tears.

Connected by blood
Connected by love.

Husband remembered
Grandfather honored.

The soft side of love.

“Pondering The Loss Of Nelson Mandela”


Through Harold’s Lens:

Our world lost
Truly great man
True hero of our time.

Let us never forget

One-of-a-kind stature
South Africa’s
Nelson Mandela.

His final walk to freedom has begun.

“Call of Terror”

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ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

Auburn, New York
4:12 am.
January 9, 1955.

The brass ringer bell on our rotary phone screams and screams and screams outside my bedroom door.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I’m in deep sleep.

Ring. Ring Ring.

I am only 14.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Old enough to know only bad comes with a call in the black of night.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I’m into horror movies.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I am terrified.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Slapping bare feet rip down the wooden hallway.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Total silence.

A mind-piercing scream rips through my bedroom door. I leap from my sheets. I tear open my door. I’m face to face with my Mother. Wracking in tears. Sucking for air. Eyes wide with terror.

“Maudie”, Mom gasps. The hospital. Her five-month old daughter. Dead. I wrap my arms around Mom’s heaving, sagging shoulders. Mom and I cry.

Please Lord. There is an order to birth. An order to death. Our children are not to die first.

A jet black old rotary in an antique store in Buenos Aires evokes a 50 year old painful memory of an ice cold January morning in upstate New York and the value of life.

“Bedtime Prayer”

ARGENTINA Through Harold’s Lens:

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

“Deep Faith”

MEXICO Through Harold’s Lens:

In the small, rural community of Atotonilco, the afternoon’s quiet receding sun casts its faith onto the rich Mexican Baroque mural work of the Chapel of the Holy Burial in the Sanctuary of Jesús Nazareno de Atotonilco.

A UNESCO World Heritage Site just outside the town of San Miguel de Allende.

“House Of Worship”

MEXICO Through Harold’s Lens:

Dusk settles in on De La Parroquia de San Pedro Apostol, the 400 year old main church in Mineral de Pozos.

The magical abandoned silver mining town of Pozos, with its uncommon beauty in the high chapparral desert of Central Mexico, is experiencing a large resurgence of interest, particularly as an art and artisan’s community.