Posted in Uncategorized, tagged endurance, heart, love, patience on September 3, 2020| Leave a Comment »
In the middle of my heart
is a meadow with tall golden grass
and a big blue blanket
spread out like an invitation.
I never fold it up.
Not ever.
It is always the right time
to meet you there.
The light is always golden.
The air is always sweet.
Even when I ache.
Even when my heart
ticks in my chest,
not like a clock,
like a bomb.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged books, heart, library on August 1, 2020| 1 Comment »
In the library of my heart
are thousands of slim volumes.
There are no rules
against dog earring pages.
Writing in margins
is encouraged.
There are many comfy chairs,
sage and amethyst rugs,
and surprisingly tall ceilings
with ladders for reaching
the highest shelves.
Dust never collects here,
the cream candles never burn out,
though sometimes
a chapter or two is lost
and no one notices.
It smells of vanilla
and lavender and old paper.
It smells of autumns
and moonlight and loss.
Is it any wonder
I sometimes go days
without leaving here?
But sometimes,
though I have in my hand
the key to get in,
I just can’t find the door.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, overwhelm on July 10, 2020| 1 Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, medicine, music, song on February 16, 2020| 2 Comments »
Not tea, not pills,
not herbs, not tinctures,
not creams, not salts,
not drops, not injections—
what the heart needs
tonight is a song
so true that its cells rhyme
themselves with the beat.
Tonight, the only medicine
this tired heart needs
is to listen.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aging, heart, love, poem, poetry on September 14, 2019| 2 Comments »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged birds, evolution, heart, poem, poetry, science on August 11, 2019| Leave a Comment »
They know that birds see many more colors
than humans can—and they know that
their plumage has become, over millions of years,
more colorful, more dazzling, more bright.
But why, they wonder, can the birds see
colors they do not have in their feathers?
Why haven’t they developed the ability
to produce ultraviolet yellow or ultraviolet red?
I know that there is beauty I see in others
that I do not yet see in myself: People
who leave bottles of water in the desert
of west Texas. A 94-year-old man in Iowa
who has given away 6,000 Hershey’s
milk chocolate bars to connect
with the people in his changing hometown.
A 13-year-old girl who has raised $80,000
to save dogs from being euthanized.
A woman who chooses forgiveness.
I want to believe that to see is to invite evolution.
I want to believe that through sight, my own heart will develop
the way plumage might, more dazzling, more bright.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged betrayal, caliban, heart, love, poem, poetry, shakespeare, the tempest on July 28, 2019| Leave a Comment »
title from William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act III, Scene II
I have a Caliban locked in my heart,
a child of the moon. He reminds me sometimes
of all the beautiful places he’s shown me—
the heart’s clear springs and its riches.
How we loved each other then.
There was a time he would offer
to lick my shoes. There was a time
I would follow him everywhere.
I invited him to sleep in my sheets.
I would rub his wild scruff till he purred.
I poured him my best wine in my best glass.
I sang him to sleep. There are some betrayals
we will never forgive. Or so
we tell ourselves. Now he is insolent.
Now I’ve built walls. Now he’s rebellious.
Now I’m master I’d rather not be.
It was so much more wonderful then
when we were friends, when I trusted him
and delighted in the most primal parts of me.
And though I lock him up now, he reminds me
through his cage of the sweet airs of the heart
and the music inside us that longs to be obeyed.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged faith, heart, opening, poem, poetry, rain on May 17, 2019| 3 Comments »
Again the rain,
and I wander
the tender green grass
of the field.
The hands pull weeds
because the hands
want something to do.
And the mind looks
for morels, because the mind
wants something to do.
And the feet wander,
because they are born
nomads. And the heart
opens. Not because
it wants to, but
because there is something
in the scent of rain
that suggests
so much is possible,
even, against all odds,
beauty. Even, though
it seems impossible,
another day.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged compassion, goldfinch, heart, heartache, poem, poetry, thorns on May 15, 2019| Leave a Comment »
goldfinch stealing
into the thorn bush—
oh heart, bless you
for being willing, please
don’t follow him in
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged boat, heart, love, poem, poetry, river on April 26, 2019| Leave a Comment »
