Babbling Brook

If I could sit forever
at a babbling brook
Would I treasure it as much?

 

The True Mystery

We know the things
that cannot be seen
hold us together— 
atoms, energy, gravity, thoughts, 
creativity, memories, dreams,
even love.

But the things
we do see— 
the blossoming of trees,
children playing, wild animals,
ships and cities, 
mountains and streams,
it is this, the visible,
that is the true mystery 
of the world.

Unfolding Beauty

Take your time
and be everywhere you are.

Be here in the mountaintop
overlooking the vast land
Be here in the land
grounding your feet
Be here in your feet
holding your body
Be here in your body
housing your heart
Be here in your heart
opening your connection to others
Be here with others
opening to the oneness of the world
Be here with the world
evolving in mysterious ways.

Approach her with grace
and she will lead you
to unfolding beauty.

A New Spring

This is our time of reckoning—

out of the dark

into a life
unsure of itself,
into a spring

that challenges our wants

with new reality.

Behaviors are questioned.

We cannot fall back

on the old

as we fashion the path ahead.

What joy a hug is,

a laugh in person.

Little things in life

renewed.

This is a spring

to be marveled—

even the roses

are larger.

 

Ode to Nightshade, My Cat

Long after you are gone

I will still feel you in the morning
walking on my body,
pawing my face.

Long after you are gone,
I will sweep up a hair—
remains of lost love,
maybe even find a whisker.

Long after you are gone,
every pair of dark shoes
seen from the corner of my eye
will catch me off-guard
with a glimpse of you.

Oh, how I dreamt
if a cat came to my door
I would keep her.
Then you, abandoned in the field,
were brought to me by a friend.

All of seven weeks old,
you sat in the palm of my hand,
then on my modem,
then on my printer,
and every warm place you could find.

Playful, endearing,
your long brown hair and yellow eyes
rendered you beautiful.
Your skittish nature
kept you from others.
You were mine, all mine to enjoy,
and I did completely.

Now, I watch every breath,
every precious moment—
waiting for my heart to be torn
from my body,
reliving 18 years of joy.

Oh, my little girl, I bid you sweet farewell
as I brace myself for that last gasp of air,
the breaking of earthly bonds
that animals bring to the human soul,
the love that cannot be expressed,
only known.

Triumphs and Challenges

To have lived these days

is to come through
with triumphs and challenges.

Triumphs from little things —
daily changes,
pushing through, 

lives touched —
some closer now
some more distant.

To not lose contact
with those we don’t see
is a triumph.

To experience seasonal shifts
on daily walks
is a triumph.

To share common experience
with open heart and open mind
is a triumph.

To know that life is worth living
even when people are dying
is a triumph.

Challenges, yes, there are many,
but today is a day
to focus on triumphs.

Passing Through

I borrow this dust

from a lonely planet —
earth rotting and dry,
scaffolding sent to the heavens,
wanting more.

I borrow this heart
from a worn out soldier
sharing a victory or defeat,
lost in the questions,
lost in himself.

I borrow these eyes
from the one who sees
beyond the surface
into the lagoon of many faces,
into the water of life.

I hold it all, heart in hand,
visions of better days —
freer, more alive.
My longings cast on the mountain,
scattered.

Some held back to ignite me now
as I rise through the blanket of ash
wafting through snippets of dreams —
trying to make sense
of the path I’m on.

Consoling the losses,
encouraging the remains.

Soft Emergence

I have no idea what it will be like

to hug people again, to be close,
to look them in the eye
without a screen between us,
to see their smile — in real time.

I can’t imagine
eating out of the same bowl —
taking a handful of nuts
that others have touched,
buying food without washing it,
not seeing people
as carriers of disease,
not scrubbing down
everything in sight.

When this is over
will my cells jump for joy?
Will I come out okay?
Or will there be dark holes
that linger,
the scent of rubbing alcohol
bringing it all back?

I wonder if my heart
will explode when the veil lifts.
Or will there be
a soft emergence,
one foot put slowly
in front of the other,
not too far, not too fast,
like toes dipping into a cold stream,
and pace my arrival gently
into the new world —
whenever that may be.

The Winter of My Coming

It is the winter of my coming —

the long, drawn out days of retreat.
Over and over I ask myself,
“How do I live today?”
as if, on its own,
it is consequential,
as if every moment
is recorded and revisited,
as if every moment matters.

We live in the time
we were born into.
This one: the beginning of the end
or the renewal.
We don’t know which yet.

Fires, floods, pandemic,
freedom’s decline,
the hidden and the seen
all mixed together
in the same caldron.
We drink of it daily.
It tosses and turns
in our stomachs and minds.

Each of us full, yet hungry —
hungry for life to begin again.
We want what we had,
but those days are gone.
We move forward into the end
or the renewal.

Every choice leads to the answer.
Every moment
metered and noted,
every morning asking,
“How do I live today?”
Every step positioned
as if it matters,

because it is the only thing
that does.

Just Dance

Take the bandage off your skin

and dance.
Stop the healing from the outside.
No form of “out there” can help you.

Take the ruins off your shelf
and smash them.
You don’t need the past holding you
where you don’t want to be.

Let your energy expand
in every direction.
There is no guide but silence,
there is no path but here.

There is no better, no worse,
no up, no down —
only your deep inner wisdom
longing to set you free.

Dance and let your voice rise
out of its cage.
Don’t try to tame that wild animal.
She is your sanctuary, your savior.

Dance and feel the rhythm of the beat.
Dance and let your body move.
Dance and wake your sleeping parts.
Dance and then dance some more.