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Posts Tagged ‘sun’

Just Before It Melts

 

 

 

Before the sun

has reached

the meadow

on the tip

of a tall blade

of dry grass,

a single

brilliant

sparkle—

see how

it offers

radiance

to anyone

who

will look,

though

that is not

why it

shines.

 

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Revolution

 

 

 

 

All this time circling

you like a planet,

sustained by your heat

your light, and now

this longing to be

less sphere, more moth—

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New Approach

 

 

 

On the thirteenth day of gray and winter rain

I remember the story of Amaterasu,

the Japanese goddess of the sun, who,

attacked by her brother, hid in a cave,

and the world was cast in darkness.

 

There have been more attacks

in the last few weeks than the world

can bear to hear. Sometimes we forget

how to cry. Sometimes in anger we forget

how to sing, how to pray. Sometimes,

like the younger brother, Susanoo,

we hurl things at those we love most—

 

perhaps not a monstrous flayed horse,

but blame, judgment, accusations, disgust.

It’s no wonder whatever is light

finds a way to retreat. It’s no wonder

we find ourselves in darkness.

 

In the story, the rest of the gods

try to lure out the sun with roosters

all ordered to crow outside the cave.

 

I, too, have tried to tell myself, others too,

that it is morning when it is not.

Always, I am left with darkness

on my tongue.

 

Then the gods placed a tree

draped in glittering jewels

just outside the closed cave door

and at its center they hung a mirror

so the sun could see her own loveliness.

 

I, too, have tried to put shine

on the tawdry world,

and never did any sparkling thing

make what is ugly more beautiful.

 

It was Amenouzume, another goddess,

who danced with abandon,

who took off her clothes

and twirled and teased

until all the gods in heavens roared with delight,

and, out of curiosity, the sun finally

opened the door to see.

 

Oh world, I am the one who knocks

on the door until my hands bleed,

the one who speaks to the door

and begs and threatens and cajoles

until she is hoarse. None of it

has brought back the light. I am ready

to try dancing and dropping all my layers.

I am ready to try flinging my head back

and letting loose a reckless, untamable laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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This is how

 

 

one lives

when she knows she will die—

she sits beside the river

and puts down the book

and lets the sun

scrawl its hot verses

on every page

of her body.

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The sun and I made a promise—

to shine with no apology,

to bring warmth,

to give until we have nothing left to give.

In the night, the sun

entered my sleep

and tattooed my body

with golden words.

Now all my limbs

glitter with this vow—

there is so much beauty

for us to make.

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Right Here Over the Rainbow

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.

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I was nodding, smiling,
saying mmm hmmm

whenever she paused.
She went on. I nodded.

She went on. And on.
The sun came in the window

and reminded me of the way
you said that when you made

our bed this morning, later
than usual, you noticed

how our bed bathes in the sun
all day when we are not at home,

and how by night we sleep
in the accumulated light.

You know, she said.
Mmm hmm, I said. I know.

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Somewhere in Cygnus

Just before sleep,
my son says he heard
about a solar system

with three suns.
I try to imagine
the gravity of it,

wonder how
it might change
our ideas of god

not to mention love
if we, too, looked up
and saw all that light.

check it out here:
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2005/07/050715222557.htm

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Haiku to Prometheus

I too, stole fire.
I, too, waited daily
for the eagle.

*

Just one piece of sun.
That’s all I wanted. After all
everything is broken.

*

It did not look
like a gift, the devouring
from the inside out.

*

Only clay after all.
But we’re more than that.
Ask my liver.

*

It never once
looked over its shoulder.
Brown wings blocked the sun.

*

I’d almost say
I came to like it. Could you
understand?

*

Isn’t it funny
I can’t remember now
the color of the eyes.

*

Tonight so full
the moon. It can be so lovely,
emptiness.

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Possibility


—time is a tree(this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
–e.e. cummings

At dinner, the boy says
in a matter of fact kind of way
Did you know that one day

the sun will burn out?
Yes, says the dad, and
the little girl, starts to cry.

That means there will
be no more mornings,
she says. Oh sweetheart,

that’s true, says the mom.
But it will not happen
for a long, long time,

long after you are gone.
This is no comfort
to the weeping one,

who, between bites
of cucumber and rice,
is tasting the loss of light,

the end of warmth,
this life only so long.
Outside, three leaves

fall, golden and full
of sun, but she does not
notice them.

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