Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awakening, invitation, poem, poetry, rain on April 7, 2018| 7 Comments »
Today it was the puddle
that woke up my heart,
the way it received the sky
and remade it in smeary mirrors
of grays beneath my feet.
How at first, I tried so hard to avoid it,
and then, once my feet were wet,
I could see it only as a way to play,
an invitation for joy. To splash
in the clouds. To splash for the pleasure
of splashing. To splash until
I could no longer recognize her, that part
of me who longed to stay safe, stay dry.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged everything, nothing, poem, poetry, temple, Tom Barrett on April 5, 2018| 4 Comments »
In the secret temple of my heart
was an altar
with nothing on it—
I love nothing,
the pure potential
of it. Sometimes when others
journeyed here, I sensed
they were surprised,
perhaps even sorry for me,
as if it would better
with a lotus or a cross
or a star or a figurine
or a photo of someone.
Or a stone. Always something.
I tried, in fact, to put things
on the altar, but
no thing let itself
stay. There was a day
when, in a single moment,
the altar had everything
on it, and by everything,
I mean everything—every
bee, every stick, every
plastic bag and beetle,
every crushed empty can,
every crumpled shirt,
every door handle, compass,
broken thermometer, apple,
trashcan, tree, everything.
And it was so beautiful I wept.
For hours. Oh, the pure potential of it!
And then, that altar
was no longer in some secret
temple in my heart,
but everywhere. Everywhere
a place to worship.
Everything a prayer
waiting to be heard,
to be touched.
And inside, the most beautiful
nothing, not even an altar,
which is, oddly, everything.
I can’t say how.
Sometimes, when I am quiet enough,
I notice it. Sometimes, when
I get out of the way, I fall all the way in.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged failure, poem, poetry, tea on April 3, 2018| Leave a Comment »
while pouring tea for failure,
I forgot to add the tea—
we drink the hot water together and laugh
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged nostalgia, poem, poetry, time, wind on April 2, 2018| Leave a Comment »
leaning into a wind
from twenty years ago—
still tugging tears from my eyes
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, mother, nature, poem, poetry, secret on April 2, 2018| 2 Comments »
Come, she says, let me show you
my secret place in the woods,
and she grabs my hand
and walks me past the pond through
the forest and along a ditch
until we arrive in a small clearing
rung with birch and old spruce.
It’s secret, she says, but not
too far away. Will you help me
get it ready? We return with
loppers and a small hand saw
and clear away what is dead. The sun
discovers new ways to touch the ground.
When we leave, the clearing
comes with us. All day, I feel it,
the light as it finds its way in.