when cold enough
the river becomes its own obstacle—
oh heart, stay warm, stay warm
Posts Tagged ‘heart’
One in Winter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, heart, poem, poetry, river on December 9, 2017| Leave a Comment »
What Sustains Us
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cleanliness, heart, mess, poem, poetry, self help on July 23, 2017| 3 Comments »
… one sector of the self can step in for another in trouble
—Kay Ryan, “Why We Must Struggle”
Because the heart is a mess
I mop the floors. And shake
the rugs. And find homes
for all the knick knacks
and papers that clutter
the shelves. And when
the heart is still a mess,
I scour sinks. Then wipe
the mirrors. Hours go by.
The drawers are straightened.
Sheets and towels refolded.
Even the piano keys
are not sticky any more.
The filter in the fish tank
is scrubbed and changed.
But what does the heart care
for cleanliness? It walks
across the polished room
in its muddiest shoes
leaving gravel on the floors.
Shoves all the pillows off the couch
to make a cozier spot
for fussing, then spreads its troubles
across the counters
where they more easily
can be seen. Organizing the lot
is beyond me, but
I notice how,
between those muddled troubles,
the counters gleam.
Right There on Main Street
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Clea Willow, hands, heart, love, parking meter, poem, poetry on March 28, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Imagine that your hands are an extension of your heart. Because they are.
—Clea Willow, yoga instructor
While slipping coins into the meter
I remind my hands they are doing
the work of the heart. They fumble
to find another quarter in my coin purse,
then drop it on the sidewalk
where it shines against the gray.
Isn’t that just like the heart, I think,
to bumble even the simplest of routines.
It could be so easy to search for, hold closely,
and let go at just the right time.
Come on hands, I tell them, do what
what the heart must do. Reach.
Recover. Try again.
We Think We Can Wait to Clean Out the Debris
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, love, monostitch, poem, poetry on December 2, 2016| 1 Comment »
One Curiosity
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, poem, poetry, uncertainty on October 20, 2016| 1 Comment »
eavesdropping on my own heart
wishing I could understand the whispers—
rustle of golden leaves
One Revelation
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, poem, poetry on August 27, 2016| 2 Comments »
While Wandering the Chambers
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, opening, poem, poetry on May 31, 2016| 2 Comments »
Who knew the heart
had so many doors,
most of them invisible
until the very moment
the hand brushes the knob,
and out of habit, perhaps,
the wrist makes a turn
and suddenly
there is an opening
where moments before
there was only wall.
There are thresholds
beyond our dreaming
right here within
the lives we live.
They have been here
all along.
This Afternoon, I Walk East
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, heart, love, poem, poetry on October 23, 2015| 1 Comment »
How good the cold air
feels on the face
after a morning inside.
I try to tell myself
it could work this way
with the heart, too—
a little winter
when there’s been
so much heat—
but the heart does
not believe me
and zips up its coat.
It’s All I Hear
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, poem, poetry on January 12, 2015| 1 Comment »
standing at the door
of your heart, is that pounding
your pulse or my hand
Odd Luck
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, love, luck, poem, poetry on August 5, 2014| Leave a Comment »
an h-poem for Lian Canty’s Alphabet Menagerie
If you are lucky in this life,
you will find hearts everywhere you go—
hiding in full sun in the leaves of the hollyhocks,
or tucked into brambles, or rising up
when you hold your hand out to a friend.
And if you are lucky,
your heart will break, not just tiny cracks,
but huge fractures, wide enough
for a hippopotamus to swim through,
high enough for a hawk to circle inside.
Then, the heart can no longer believe
it is separate, beating only for itself.
Only after it is broken can it find in itself every form—
from the silver herring to the great blue heron
to the red hibiscus to the hermit crab.
In Asia they bring loved ones pink hydrangeas
to say, “You are the beat of my heart.”
If you are lucky, you offer hydrangeas
to every creature you see—the hummingbird,
the rattlesnake, the man across the street.
A horseshoe is lucky if you hang it
open side up, but not as lucky as an open heart
which is always ready for love. And if it is
too difficult to ask the world to break you,
then just wait, and whisper frequently, “Thank you, thank you.”
Imagine What Might Happen Then
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communication, healing, heart, love, poem, poetry, sun on June 17, 2014| 1 Comment »
Almost every heart
we know
is wounded—
all the more reason
to learn the language the sun speaks
when it touches the meadow in spring,
and then speak
like that
to each other.
Nine Reframings
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, lens, poem, reframe on September 14, 2013| 1 Comment »
a chest
full of flowers—
open me
*
my thumb hurts, I say,
my dad’s favorite fix—drop
a rock on your foot
*
only a sip
and already I’m drunk—
desert after rain
*
my knee hurts, I say
and the world
breaks my heart
*
puddle, puddle,
puddle, puddle, puddle,
tear
*
why so serious
says the leaf
already gold
*
such a blessing
to be thirsty in a season
of rain
*
my heart hurts, I say,
and the old poet says
live by breaking
*
using a thread
to climb to heaven, the angels
toss me a rope
Making the Ask
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged body, breaking open, compassion, heart, love, poem, prayer, service on June 19, 2013| 5 Comments »
Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.
—The Wizard of Oz
Give me a heart that breaks,
a heart that longs to open
wider and wider, always revealing
more space. Give me hands
that long to serve. Make them strong
enough to build what must be built.
Make them fall in love with letting go.
Make them unable to hurt. Give me a mind
that leans toward generosity. A tongue
that speaks in only we. Feet that run
toward those in need. Eyes
that see beneath the masks. Ears
that hear the silence
that is the staff for every sound. A nose
that follows the fragrance of truth.
Blood the same red as everyone else’s.
And give me a heart that breaks again
and again, the way ocean waves
break, unpredictable, an endless
breaking, an endless release,
in which nothing is ever really lost,
in which we are found.
Orvis Hot Springs, April 1
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, hot springs, love, miracle, poems, poetry, sacred on April 1, 2012| 7 Comments »
Sitting alone in warm water
with the sun doing what the sun does
when given a clear, clear sky,
everything seems possible.
Imagine, the earth heats this water
before it enters the rounded stone pool
and this seems miracle enough
to make me think that whatever is sacred
in this life might be very, very simple.
Simple as it is, I don’t understand
how it works—just as I do not understand
the heart with its longing to love.
Doesn’t it remember the hurt?
Doesn’t it remember the walls crashing down,
the rubble, the wreckage, the stench?
Doesn’t it remember the long, slow
blossoming of ache? How it unfurled
like the chokecherry tree in the yard—
tiny buds, tiny buds, tiny buds,
larger buds, then bloom! A riot of bloom!
I recently read about frogs, how
if they jump into a pot of boiling water
they immediately will jump out
and survive. But if they are put
in a pot of cold water and the fire
is lit and the temperature increase
is slow, then they will stay in the pot
even though it is getting uncomfortable,
even though it is more and more hot,
they will stay until they are boiled.
And dead. Does the heart learn from this?
Apparently not.
Here I am sitting alone
in warm, warm water, the sun
burning red the skin on my chest,
and all I can think is how good it feels
to be naked, to be warm, to be alive,
and to let the heart love, to love despite.
Oh foolish woman. Oh pleasure
in being a fool, how it burns.
Beyond the Petrie Dish Tanka
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, love, science, tanka, two become one on February 5, 2012| 1 Comment »
Today I learned what
I knew: if a cell from my
heart met one from yours,
they would find a new rhythm
not yours, not mine, but ours.
six
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awe, bread, change, crow, haiku, heart, listening, lock, love, poem, transience, uncertainty on January 12, 2012| 2 Comments »
too many to count
petals on the orchard floor
he loves me?
*
rusted lock
in the heart’s back pocket
a spare key
*
snow on the ridges
come spring what else
will be missing?
*
almost asleep
these hands still kneading
soft dough
*
he talks
and talks and talks and talks
about listening
*
no temple bells
still the crow goes on
about awe, awe