Next Life

Is is me who I grieve for.

My heart and soul wait

anticipating it all to be as I want, but

I chose you, unwisely.

Why cant you be more, be what I want?

All of you, the collective you too.

But it is only me,

smothering in want and need.

Occasionally the sun breaks through but only to be swallowed by the sea, again.

Will it rise tomorrow?

Maybe not.

It is all slipping away,

It is almost over.

Until next time,

love,

next life.

Waiting for Words

Are there any more words?

I wait, I close my eyes and don’t think.

Thinking gets in the way.

Jumbles my ideas and thoughts.

Better to just wait,

close my eyes and wait.

I’ll write what they tell me to.

But not with words,

those come out of the end of my pen

All on their own.

Once More

This well isn’t dry,

Not yet.

I feel it stirring,

Waking up.

There is a sense of fullness in my head.

My thoughts are racing, competing, but none are clear.

They are busy working things out on their own,

Hidden from me in a misty veil

Until one, that special one, breaks through

And brings with it a flood of words.

Not from me but through me from

Behind the veil.

I can’t tell the veil when to lift,

It tells me, and after it has had its way,

Has said what it needed to say,

It slips back behind my eyes, rests and is silent.

And the words sleep and are at peace until

The stirring begins again and the veil is lifted,

Once more.

Tea Mugs and Wine Glasses

Come, sit and sip with me again.

The tea will warm our hands, the wine our hearts.

Hold my hands across the table once more and

Watch and feel my eyes melt into yours.

I know your heart hears mine but you pull

Your sweater tight and muffle its cries for me.

Let it out, it only wants to share.

Don’t be afraid,

Your heart won’t leave you for me and mine

Won’t leave me for you, but

They will meet when

Our chests touch.

Their harmonic beauty will speak to us in peace and love and

Lull us into the sweetness of sleep

Among the tea mugs

And wine glasses.

10/24/15

Silent April Snow

The early spring silent snow

Fits my mood.

It is a white dusting of truth

Accentuating every little branch and twig,

Making every little lie all the more obvious.

The silence into which the April snow is falling

Seeps through my eyes and into my heart

As if to smother and quiet its

Telltale beats.

It comes as blessing and a curse by

Prolonging the inevitable with maybe that one last chance.

But I know the sun will come out and

It will all be just a memory …

Once again.

Silly Words

 

I think the words are on strike, they are not working…

They have left me, again.

Are they all on vacation? Or maybe just sleeping in…

They hide beneath my bed and try to trip me when I get up.

I hear their giggles under there

But they are too fast, I can’t catch them!

They refuse to come out and play but stick their little feet out from under the door

Just to tease me!

I caught a glimpse of them outside early this morning,

Sneakily running through the garden heading for the woods…

Those little rascals, I’ll have to take a walk to the brook later

 And round them up and put them back to work.

They can’t hide from me forever, although sometimes it seems like they can…

Silly words.

 

 

It Waits

It waits with patience hands

Outside our knowing, waiting to be let in.

Its story is always the same,

Its truth dependable but not always what we want to hear.

There is no hypocrisy, no deceit in its soul.

It is the soul that fills the void, that encompasses the eternal.

It exists in rhythms of time, tides of dependability,

Cycles of freedom and seasons of hope.

It can be ignored, but never escaped and so it waits,

In beauty and joy, in bliss and acceptance, in love and peace,

For us to wake up and realize it is but a mirror of ourselves,

The face of our existence, the light in our souls,

The essence of our being

Before we were born.

Because of Him

Gratitude for the smallest of things

Becomes gratitude for the eternal.

Because the eternal exists in even the smallest,

A baby’s laugh, a milkweed bloom, a crystal blue winter sky.

An autumn leaf, falls softly in silence,

Releasing its life with gratitude in a celebration of color.

It is the small things in my life that cover me in warmth and

Feed the fire of my gratitude with love.

I am thankful for sunrises and sunsets,

The defining moments of each day’s beginning and end.

I am grateful for my children and grandchildren –

All manifestations of God.

The life light in a newborn’s eye,

Holds the spirit of heaven and the knowledge of Krishna’s grace.

And when I am in danger of forgetting these things, I sit and go deep inside myself,

Inside to that point where I am connected directly to him and he brings me back to grace.

It is my gratefulness that fuels my passions for the loves in my life, from acorns to hummingbirds

Grasshoppers to lightning storms,

Soft kisses at midnight,

And sweet love in the morning.

I am grateful to exist in a flood of grace and love.

Grace that is endless and effortless, and love that is all encompassing.

My heart is full and soft and my smiles are because of him.

Hari Om