Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘invitation’

 

 

What wants to happen?

            —Joi Sharp

 

 

Today it is the tow truck

that leads me back to myself.

For though I call the driver

and though I receive

a text that says he is coming

and though I have paid

my AAA bill on time, the tow

truck does not arrive.

Though I did everything right.

Though the same actions have worked before.

Still the world has not turned out

the way I expected, the way

I want it to. The car

is still stranded. The tow truck

is still not here. Oh failure,

how clearly it shows my attachment

to outcome. How clearly it

shows me the world is in charge.

I look for more doors to knock on,

try to plan more ways to control.

Meanwhile, I am the door.

Meanwhile, this chance

to let go.

Read Full Post »

You Are Invited

 

 

Today, a party, and the whole world

is invited. No written invitations,

but the occasion? It’s Wednesday.

And here we are, all of us, in the same place

at the same time. Might as well

get to know the person standing

next to you—learn their name,

shake their hand, discover

all you have in common—

the party goes on tomorrow, too.

Bring your own. Bring something

to share. No RSVP, just show up.

Read Full Post »

Puddled

 

 

 

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.

Read Full Post »

With Any Luck

 

 

 

Meet me in summer

when the mountains

are softened by fields

of blue lupine

and the creeks run clear

with the memory of snow.

With any luck,

we’ll get lost until

we, too, begin to bloom,

until whatever is cold in us

melts and races away

with a bright and bubbling laugh.

There are days we forget

how to make a fist,

how to speak any language

but praise. Meet me

in summer when the old

high trails are open—

what else might we find

behind the crumbling

mines—some share

of ourselves we’ve yet

to have met—something

so spacious we never

dreamt it would fit

inside our skin.

With any luck,

it will follow us home.

 

Read Full Post »

One Invitation

same moon, same stars,

same chance to believe it’s the best

night of my life

Read Full Post »

Invitation

When there is nothing left to say
please come and find me then.
We’ll stroll in golden fields all day
when there is nothing left to say—
we’ll reunite in other ways,
bouquets of touch and listening hands.
Hush, there is nothing left to say.
Please come and find me, then.

Read Full Post »

two haikulings inspired by Rumi’s Divan-e Shams-e Tabrizi

over the edge
making the last step
with no feet

(Divan xxxv)

*

that departure drum–
how easily I slip its beat
into my dream

(Divan xxxvi)

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: