Poetry from my heart
August, a month of
Heavy air, morning mists and summer’s last hurrah.
Its sultry nights are drenched in humid air and thunder
With light shows between the clouds at midnight and
Rain hissing in the dark on the forest green.
Late summer dawns are still and thick and hang over
Flowers spent and gardens full.
In late August the earth speaks to me in fruits and vegetables,
Hay fields and corn rows, empty fields and full root cellars,
Reminding me that Summer’s end is near.
The stillness of the night air
Hangs heavy outside my window.
Its darkness threatens to come in,
But my reading light keeps it at bay, and
Although the light is bright, drips of silent night
Sneak in around the edges of my window sill
And puddle on the floor by the curtain hem
To remind me of the darkness that lurks just outside
My window
And my heart.
I need to see the moon lit patterns of white and shadow on the grass and hear how they speak to me once more.
The chimes are calling me again from the silence of my soul to look, listen and observe.
I need to hear the hungry owl’s cries in the night, feel its silent wings move swiftly in the darkness,
Too swiftly for its pray, and watch with detachment the
Swift death, natural and inevitable, made a villain only
By my thoughts.
I need to leave my disturbed thoughts and become the stillness in the chaos,
I need to reenter the silent swiftness of the owl’s wings and moon shadows.
For it is the only place to be and
The only place where I have ever existed.
I must never be distracted again.
My being had begun to seep away while I was preoccupied,
Distracted by another, an unnatural evil but one of my own making.
But the owl’s wings are bringing me home now,
My time of regression is done, but it has taken its toll.
My heart is weaker, my thoughts harder to read.
There is never regressing without damage to my soul.
Solitude and stillness, as a getaway to the road back, are coming into view…
The road back leads to the place of reclamation of my soul,
Back to the essence of bliss, to the everlasting light and to
His hand in mine.
Impostors by fate but originally
Miracles at birth.
Now holed up in falsities and
Missing the point.
Unsettled souls reap only what
They sow, they received no gifts and are giving none in return.
No promises are kept, no dreams fulfilled.
Maybe next time they say, but next time never comes.
It is the same ending, over and over and over.
A sadness steeped in familiarity, with
Seduction, for its own sake,
The only prize.
It is a shallow, stagnate prize
But the only reward there is.
It is time to break this spell of soullessness and
Open to the pain and recognition of your deluded being.
Absorb it, take it in and by doing so defuse
Its dark energy.
Deny its claim on you,
Step away from its hold and
Watch, watch as it shrinks
And fades.
Watch it be consumed by the light,
And dissolved in the liquid love of the Son.
Watch it be taken from you
To hurt you no more.
Awaken and feel the light and goodness
Of who God made you to be.
It is there, already in you, see it for yourself
And when you do…
Pain will lose its sting and
Darkness will be no more.
A robin sings at dawn and
The day breaks on a new world.
A world different from the one
The sun set on yesterday.
It is the same earth but
A new world.
My world is not the same as yours and
Your world can never be the same as mine as I am not you.
Our eyes work in the same way, yet
See everything differently.
A million souls have been lost since yesterday, but
A million more were born.
We are not alone or the same…
Watch the progression of the wind through the trees.
Notice how each tree moves to its own song and in its own world.
As do we…
Do you feel the same breeze that moves the trees?
Do you know and hear their songs?
They hear mine…
Today, even my heart is different than yesterday’s,
Is yours?
In the night my dreams change me and
I wake up in a new world.
It happens every morning,
But it’s never the same.
The world’s consistency is but an illusion.
The ferns leaning against my porch screens are a little taller than they were before.
Overnight, more geranium buds have opened and
The garden has drunk up all the water I gave to it yesterday.
Everything has changed
Yet appears the same.
The illusion is well practiced and convincing,
Or is it?
After all, the Robin never fails to sing at dawn.
The sound of rain takes me to a place of inner peace as it
Falls in sheets, slides down the roof and over its edge in a curtain of water.
Tree leaves dance with the weight of the rain and
Flowers wash their faces in its freshness.
The sky is lower on rainy days and
Holds me close to the ground.
Forest sounds are muted and muffled and
Light is defused into grayness.
It is not a sad and depressing grayness,
But a soothing and peaceful shade,
Full of the necessity of remembered sorrows and joys.
I love a rainy day that is soft and dark. It begs me to stop, rest, and be mindful of my surroundings and loves.
It reminds me to take the time to be lulled by the patter of rain on the windows
Into a place of inner stillness,
And there remain, content to just be and
Accept what is.
Between the birdsong and morning sunlight,
Waves of grass sway in unison, while
The melody of life and light
Plays across Curtis field.
Heated mist rises from the grasses in currents of song
And murmurs in harmony with the breath of the encircling trees.
This field holds its life close,
An entire universe existing in the space of a blade of grass.
Life here teams in layers from dirt to dawn and
Root to crown.
This is a place of abundance, an abundance
Kept well hidden beneath layers of grass.
A place for contemplation and peace; one rich with the essence of life.
So please come and sit here with me again.
Get up close and watch,
Feel the warmth of life surrounding us.
Embrace its sweetness and
Hold the magic of this place in your soul forever.
And when your soul remembers, and the time is right, take my hands in yours and
Be with me once more.
Just you and me between the birdsong and morning sunlight.
3/18/16
Be extraordinary in your ordinariness and
Marvel in the beauty of everyday blessings.
Notice how snow piles up in leeward corners of windows during a storm
And the rings raindrops make in puddles.
Admire the spirit of sunflower seeds sprouting in
October under the bird feeders.
Let the sparkling morning spider webs on
Summer grass fill your eyes with the freshness of love.
Feel the sweetness of warm, wet, baby kisses and
Hear the snap of clean linens on a spring morning clothesline.
Watch and listen for the ordinary ways God speaks to us
A million times a day and see …
Bees dancing on pebbles in the bird bath and
Crisp autumn leaves ringed with October morning frost.
Hear a Wood Thrush’s echoing, haunting song at dusk and
Watch clear glass jars and white porcelain bowls dry on the kitchen counter.
Notice frost fingers splayed across winter windows and
Soak in steaming soup on a cold December day.
Marvel how sun sparkles on freshly fallen snow and
Baby sighs in the night.
Drink in the light in your lover’s eyes and
Savor his sweet kisses at midnight.
Smile at the tea balls ringing like temple bells in the silverware drawer and
A ring of stainless steal measuring spoons in a baby’s fist.
All just ordinary things but extraordinary in their beauty and simplicity,
Just like you and me.
2/5/17
| He exists in the space between The particles of my being. The internal space in my heart that holds his love Is infinite. I hear him in the silence and Stillness of the Now. I feel him in the pause between My in and out breath. His smile lights my dreams As his hands take mine and lead me to a place of love and peace. His life force powers every cell in my body. I know it is so as I feel it traveling in waves through me with each breath I take. He speaks to me and holds my heart in the stillness of the night And brings hope for the new day with each morning’s light. He has absorbed my fears, anger and sorrow into His very being and holds them dear for me and from me. I no longer have to dwell in the past or Speculate about the future as all are one in Him. My gratitude is all encompassing And my love for him limitless. He is my Lord. Hari Krishna
|
There comes a time for change,
A leave it all behind kind of change,
A back-lit stage leaving of sorts.
An abandoning of soul, but
With a reservation in eternity.
Only the collective experience of two remains in
A lost place, a place hidden in time.
Where The ticking has stopped, daylight has faded to black,
Pictures have come and gone and
All is left behind, but never forgotten.
So the story continues. The players change but in the background, heart and hurt remain the same.
Same feelings in different colors, awash with love,
But always broken.
