Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, love, poem, poetry on January 13, 2019| 4 Comments »
It’s like just happening
to find in the drawer
the tiny screw that fits
in my glasses so the lens
won’t fall out, yes,
the fact that any of us
find each other and
happen to fit
into each other’s lives
at all seems shocking
when the drawer’s so big,
and after the discovery
so beautiful, so strange
how we never again
see the world
quite the same.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged door, love, opposition, poem, poetry on January 11, 2019| Leave a Comment »
we become what we love and yet remain ourselves.
—Martin Heidegger
and this is how
the vessel learns
that though it’s full
there’s room for more—
those sides of us
we thought were walls
were well concealed
doors
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bowl, brokenness, poem, poetry, self-portait on January 10, 2019| Leave a Comment »
inside every broken thing
there are wholes—
all that unbreakable emptiness
held in the chipped bowl
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, poem, poetry, possibility on January 10, 2019| 1 Comment »
because when the wise old man said
that the loving itself
was all that mattered—
somehow, for that moment,
while his suggestion still hung
like perfume in the air,
all the stubborn queries
of how and why and when
that usually knock and crack
and rap and ring, they all laid down
to take a nap,
and in that fragrant silence,
what rose was the most
beautiful tenderness,
a shining faith,
how improbably it opened
like a stone turned iris,
like a bone blooming
into spring.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged faith, garden, poem, poetry, seeds, winter on January 8, 2019| 2 Comments »
Reading seed catalogs
on an eight degree morning,
how improbable they look,
those royal chantenay carrots,
those pink seashell cosmos,
those bright sugar snap peas,
so greenly dangling.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged light, poem, poetry, prayer on January 7, 2019| Leave a Comment »
The more light you allow within you, the brighter the world you live in will be.
—Shakti Gawain
So I invite lanterns,
candles, torches, tapers,
street lights, spotlights,
glow worms, lasers,
wood matches, lighters
and one small prayer,
and at last I notice
it’s brighter around here.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cat, Christmas, curiosity, poem, poetry on January 6, 2019| Leave a Comment »
so unwillingly
the cat jumps out
of the Christmas tree
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being present, death, doctor, life, poem, poetry on January 5, 2019| 3 Comments »
Well, he said, I’ve seen it before.
You have all the symptoms.
Fairly common, actually.
You have life. It’s terminal.
I will give you, oh, about
forty years to live. Some people
really pull through, make the most
out of what they have left.
As he walked away, I listened
to his footsteps until all I could hear
was the sound of my own breathing.
God, it was beautiful, a tide, a river.
And that plant in the corner, have you
ever seen anything so delicate, so green?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dark, fire, light, peace, poem, poetry, warmth on January 4, 2019| 5 Comments »
Beside the fire, inside
the dark, and lost amidst
the tide of thoughts,
there is a momentary warmth
that steeps into our every inch
and make us doubt
that we could ever feel
sharp cold again—
the mind, thus warmed,
forgets to quarrel and simply
nestles closer—and the dark itself
comes nearer by and we
lean in together.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hope, moon, poem, poetry, wonder on January 3, 2019| 2 Comments »
It appears still, the crescent moon,
but it’s moving at 2,288 miles per hour,
its light reaching us in less than two seconds.
This morning, we marvel at it, as if
we’d never seen moon before, its light
somehow touching us newly.
And though we are dashing down
the highway at fifty-eight miles per hour,
watching the moon, I feel something
in me quiet and still. Years ago, a friend told me
it was time to stop writing moon poems.
How to stop when each time
we see the moon, something new in us rises
to meet it? May we always write moon poems,
whether or not anyone reads them.
May we always marvel at the light
and shadow so far past our reach
and yet travelling with us
every day, every night. May it always feel
important, like hope, impossible to touch
and so real, so true.