Widen the Heart

What words might make a reader pause?
Even for a moment, slip off the shoes,
Neglect the dog and open, fully to
This moment, startle to awareness—

The eyes that read these words,
The opening within the mind, elevates,
Widens heart to whatever comes.

Never think the roaring power will come.
It is already here, necessary, quiet.
It was abiding here before,
Will remain and never go
Beneath horizon as the setting sun.

Turn and see a different depth,
Walk inexorably this path,
Sense the essence present now,
What lies deep within the core, loving as
You love someone in your bed, boldly
Naked, joined together:

Do not think this too complex
To apprehend, just let it come, clarity
Appearing through the clouds, drifting,
Oh, so gently, a leanness,
Slipped in spacious heart without a call to arms.
No shame, no fear, no unraveling,
No brassy trumpeter announces host of angels—
No need for doctrine or chant of prayer,
Expanding warmth, a chill upon the spine,
A brush of hand against the press of life.
This pause, this space acknowledged,
Honored in this holy moment,
Cherished form of grace, unexplained,
These tears upon the face.  Let them inspire
Intensity, release from bondage, free.

A dove upon a wilder wind— these very
Words upon this page that bring an evolutionary
Change that whispers, silently—
Nothing will ever be the same again….
Convey more-than-human love.

Heaven-knows-what, strength of
Spirit, touches, blesses, energizes hope.
Yes, this quick reading of one small poem,
These meager words
Already consummates a
Deeper healing than you know.


Earth Does Not Hold Me

I am not the one who feels joy
At the rising of the morning sun.
I am not the one who loves
The cool breeze that blows across
My face, my arms, the breath
Within my lungs, the blood
That flows within my veins.
I am not my body.  That
Is not me, nor are my thoughts
Of me or you, my bones, my
Words that fall upon this page
From mind— that is not me.

I am not my suffering.
I am not my pain, my fear of
Death, of emptiness, eternal
Dark or what may be
Tomorrow—that is not me.

The gravity of Earth does not hold,
Nor Moon give light so I can see
Within the night.  The Sun does not
Confirm my energy nor galaxy contain
My essence, nor am I essential
To any will or plan.  I am not the path.
I am not the vision of the path.
I am not the thought, the firing of
Synapse deep within a brain—
That is not me, not now,
Not before my birth nor
After I have passed.

I am no prisoner,
No warden, no owner or possessor,
No truth, no delusion.  I am not It,
I am not He, nor will I ever be.
I am neither thunder nor lightening,
Not the storm, not the calmness
After the storm is past, I am
None of that.  I empty myself
Of nothingness, of space,
Of timeless hold, I am not soul,
I am not God.  I am not content
To be.  I am none of these things;
I release them all, throw them
Onto the fire, release them freely.

I have no clothes.  I am not naked.
I do not thirst or hunger.  I am
Not your brother, not your sister,
Not your mother, not the ocean
Breaking upon a distant shore.
You may search but you will
Never find me.  I am where no harm
Can come, where death does not
Decay nor shadow break the light.
I am where music fills
An everlasting silence;
Where particle and wave are one
And not one, still, moving, alive.

I will never return.  I will never go.
I was never born and will never die.
These words, ideas, concepts
Are not me.  They are illusions,
Delusions, possessions of a mind
That is possessed, blind, bound.
This is not me.  I am not who
I think I am.  This is not my
Essence, what I am.  I AM.

What Tomorrow Brings

A second passes,
A minute of shallow breath,
Tangle of rivers within the body
Hidden in veils, fatigue, presence of
Pain stretching out, howling, hoarse,
Wordless as a fish removed from water.

As emerging dawn dissolves the
Blue edge of night, a darkened
Loneliness quietly fades, revealing
Something altogether simple,
Leaving nothing quite the same.
I will keep it close, forever—
A common story, tucked away,
Deep, distinct within the soul,
Vulnerable to what tomorrow brings.

The Mountain Sits

Though it sits just across the lake,
I cannot see the mountain—
Only shadows of clouds
That change perspective, focus on
Trees that root upon its flank.
In the chill of summer morning,
The mist of dawn obscures;
In winter, snow whites out
A deeper, granite truth.
From all directions, the wind
Blows, unambiguously steep and wild,
Dust of the world blinding eyes
Accustomed to shades of gray.
Still the mountain sits, waiting,
Never letting go of Earth.

Winter Wraps the World in Icy Darkness

The stream has turned to ice, voiceless
In the pale winter’s light, so quiet
I cannot hear the murmur of the wind
Blowing through the pines.  My heart
Grows cold; veins clogged like
Stones sitting silently, reaching deeply into
Earth, spreading, threading,
Hauling heaven down, scattering,
Making senseless of what was whole.
I am stunned by the failure,
The weakness of body, the solitary
Cry of a coyote.  So much has
Congealed.  I look back on
All the streets I have lived,
Look up and wonder.