Do the Dead Still Care?

Do you think the dead still care?
I think they’re still here, surrounding….
That they find it easier to forgive
Than when they were breathing.
 
They have larger hearts now,
Eyes that are clear, unblinking—
Their spirits are wiser,
Know that each day is sacred gift,
No longer wonder so much as they exist
In the midst of what for us is still mystery.
 
I don’t think they’re angry at all,
Have found it easy to forgive.
Now they watch over the night,
Sigh with wind in the morning light,
Patiently waiting with love.

Before and Before

Last night while lost in prayer—
Perhaps it was when asleep,
Awakening within a dream….
I caught a glimpse of something so immense,
Like the lost chord that echoed
Divine music and rhythm from the very Beginning,
Deep into the Soul of the Universe.
  
I wish I had clarity of memory,
But all that’s left is subtle feeling—
A knowing that something’s there
Quivering within the radiant air…
More reality than I can verify that’s here.
 
It seems like a dance that never stops,
Goes on and on into infinite space.
I marvel and wonder at the All.
And have this déjà vu—
Know that I’ve been here before
And before and before.

When Wondering About Wonder

 Today a voice called out to me, coming from the woods,
Heard clearly through noise of the world, subtle yet irresistible,
Inviting me to walk more consciously, deliberately upon the path,
Gently wade in streams and bask in piercing rays of Sun….
To learn what trees and moss and birds might teach,
To fully live so when it comes that I shall die
I will know that I have lived.
 
How beautiful it is when God is found,
Not here or there but everywhere.
Within these glades I wonder
About my capacity for wonder,
Sit in awareness of myself—
Particles and elements drifting light years,
Forged in multitudes of far-flung stars,
Until these atoms arrived here– star dust forming my body.
What can I give back but gratitude?
What can I find of greater mystery?

There Are No Secrets Here

  Deep inside the interior, where no one ever walks,
In quiet space where you are waiting—
Waiting in a place where no one finds you.
Inside the restless trees, standing there, pretending to be still….
I hear the noise that surrounds your silent fear,
Feel the trembling pulse, see moisture wet upon your face.
 
I also see the Sun, finding way through to core,
Touches every shadow hiding in your Soul.
Though you conceal yourself from view,
There are no secrets here.  Nothing is obscured.
Nothing prevents your being known but you.
Though you hide your secrets deep within,
Though many pass by and haven’t a clue—
They fail to hear soft sigh, shallow breath,
Miss the dampness present on your skin,
Unable to see sad expression within dark eyes.
 
You make it hard to reach you here.
But I am not blind to ways you turn away—
Ways you avoid seeing quiet beauty here.
Reach out to me— there is no need of fear.
Even in lonely silence, know that I am here.
 
 

Rivers of Love

Never do I walk far into any given day
But I come to place where river flows freely.
I remove shoes, stand barefoot on right bank of Mother Earth,
My Soul an oasis of love streaming outward—
Builds a delicate bridge extending,
Joins rivers of Love drenching Whole of the Earth.
 
Within every breath, there is water of Love,
Necessary for Life itself.
Are you not thirsty?
What cup is within your grasp?
What deep well do you seek when longing?
 
The distance is never far—
It is the absence that brings tears,
The fear of losing you, forever missing you.
Before loving you, I never knew
How deeply I could miss you.
 
My heart is fragile—only you can heal the wound.
Reach out your hand and touch me,
Allow your love to fill me, soak me—
Send forth your love to roots
So deep they join the two of us,
Bedrock of what is strong….
Until I know there are no borders.
Not even oceans keep us apart.

Connections

 So many connections
Held together in empty space between words,
Leaves broadly soaking up sun
While limbs root themselves into Ground,
Entwine in thirst as threads of delicate tapestry, so very thin.
 
Where one is broken, another reaches out from Source,
Follows vine to stronger trunk, veins to heart,
Broken pieces supported by, becoming the balanced Whole.
At a distance, do you see the thousand rays of Sun
Streaming down to your face?
Can you sense how your smile reflects joy,
Carries depth of essence till it reaches me?
 Do you see me smiling back?

I stand here waiting with open arms, supporting you.
Limbs lengthen in every direction, root themselves as
Expression of the universe inside my open heart.
Touching the moment, we are no less sacred
Than wordless prayer in temple of our flesh.

To Fly, To Love, To Die in One Day

 Come on, boys…  Lift up your heads and beat your wings!
Fly toward fresh air and flee from the hive.
Your only purpose, as far as we know,
Is to mate with HRH Queen on her mating flight.
Don’t miss your chance! For this you were made,
Nurtured and fed, suffer indignity prior to your death.
 
O Expendable Bee, I honor your genetic quest.
Acknowledge that so few will ever have sex.
Were I Queen Bee I’d give you a kiss,
Grow excited in tasting your honeyed breath,
Be promiscuous with love, offer pardon,
Share warmth within the buzzing hive before winter approaches,
Knowing too soon you’ll be expelled to freeze or starve or
Worse— stung by workers until you collapse.
 
All of us are stung by cruel love.  Teach us fast, Little Bee,
Even as you die, first how to fly.  Oh, Impossible Task—
To throw wings into high gear, to declare your love,
 And then to die all in one day.
I weep on hearing your droning destiny that waits,
No hope— for your male sex seals your fate.

Wondering What His Questions Are

 There is a depth of patience
That you sometimes see
In someone who is dying,
Who knows they aren’t going
To be leaving this hospital,
This room…. This bed—
At least not in this lifetime.
 
I’ve shared the room with him
For five days, but soon
I’ll be leaving and he’ll be staying.
Soon I’ll be running outside on wet grass,
Taking life for granted.
 
There’s an awkwardness I feel—
Not sure what to say,
But I notice that he wakes early,
Stares silently at the sunrise,
Holds a flower in his hands,
Turning it around and around,
Inhaling the fragrance,
Allowing its petals to tenderly touch
His bald head, where hair no longer grows.
 
He’s only a boy of twelve,
Which makes me wonder of all
He will never know, times of awkward
Kissing, sex, bliss, withdrawal, but he’s
Learning so much already about loss.
He could teach a class in grad school
About pain and heartbreak, just by showing up,
His thin legs, pallor of skin as white as bone.
 
I lay here wondering what his questions are.
As for myself, I’m asking God
Why there aren’t more miracles to go around.
I can’t see the beauty or hear the music in this.
Please God, let his parents shout to heaven…..
Don’t let them bend the knee and swallow
Hopeless rage night after empty night.
Prayers don’t always come with a reply.
But I do see bald bravery here—
This twelve year old boy is teaching me that.
Can I drop a penny down a wishing well?
 
Strange thoughts float into mind—
Wondering if the next time I have sex
If in that moment of little death when
Breath leaves and peace floods the space
With involuntary urgency as toes curl…
Will Jayden be there in my thoughts?
 
Do you believe in angels?
Do you think God’s hands are there to catch you?
The day I left, Jayden pulled a feather from his pillow,
Gave it to me, “this feather’s for you….”
Now I wonder if he pulled it from his wings.
Please, don’t run with scissors, not through wet grass,
Dew lingering before the burning sun.

Within the Cave, I Finally Find the Light

Today the Sun is brightly shining,
Enough to see willow by the lake,
Hair tossed in breeze on warm spring day—
Buds emerging red with hint of green as it starts to weep,
Creating deepening shade
As eye begins to see swirling dark inside its trunk.
 
Suddenly white swan soars across the water,
Startling blue heron into flight.
Is the world simply filled with coincidence?
Or is the afternoon on fire, storm within broad day,
Calm, as I stand upon edge of beauty….
Where does the story begin or end?
 
My soul, like some buzzing bee trapped inside the house,
Taps upon windowpane, again and again it thrusts itself,
Seeks freedom of the breeze, heat rising from desire,
Despair at the wailing wall, a resisting force I cannot see.
Better to be torn apart by love,
Lost on stony mountain path, exhausted,
But blazing in the narrow hopeless night.
 
Barely can I see, discern pattern within surface of events,
Clear awkward noise echoing to stillness within the quiet evening…
Clear away all memories and dreams,
Clear away clouds blocking clarity of mind,
Clear from soul the fear that leads to pain.
Suddenly I know perception of the world has changed,
Perhaps a subtle shift, but enough for new creation
Sweeping me into surrender of Presence in virginity of Now,
Surfing and then swimming into Aliveness.
 
The journey has been far to find
What has always been inside.
Here, within the cave, I finally find the Light.

Where I Spend My Friday Afternoons

 Here is where I spend my Friday afternoons.
I sit out on the porch to better breathe the mountain air.
Of course I sometimes wear a heavy sweater when
Clouds drop by to visit and air turns chilly,
As when unwelcome relatives come by unexpectedly.
 
I stretch my legs; I visit nearby brook and drink from flowing water
Melting from glacier ten thousand years old, waiting frozen
Until released as I approach, awakened back to flowing form.
Never do I drink without a thank you, a prayer of warm gratitude
For peaceful solitude, for Spirit dog, for subtle taste of water.
 
As much as anywhere, here my thirst is quenched.
I know the names of trees— we are old friends by now.
Come spring I fertilize their roots, come fall they offer me their leaves.
Ancestral mountains speak more slowly, in forgotten tongue.
They hunched their backs so long ago, I no longer ask.
 
Within this mountain glade, there is no room for warring thought.
I offer you this peace and all the peace within my soul.
It now spills out upon the page and flows into your heart.
Whatever frozen obstacles you’ve saved a hundred years
Now unloose and start to melt, under moment’s healing touch.
 
This is how peace happens, spreads from house to house—
From open heart to open heart, welcoming your health.
Come sit beside in empty chair I’ve placed here just for you.
Together on this afternoon, we’ll share the solitude….
Look forward to a glass of wine as shadows mark the hour.