So Obstinate This Search For Love

 All of my life, I’ve been looking…
Searching in the strangest yet oddly dark and holy places,
Refusing to give up the torture in my heart,
Your absence rubbing against desire,
Inflames both scorching hot and immobilizing cold,
Unrelenting, unremitting need I have to find you,
Have you here beside me.

If there were such a temple where I could sacrifice,
You’d find me there at night until the dawn,
Whatever strength I find bleeding out upon the altar,
Excess of agony increased when I yield and acquiesce
To prayer and love of God instead of you.

Though I beg for mercy, God does not spare,
The pain so delicate yet obstinate this search for love.
Whatever power or purpose— merely concentrates the search.
To give you up would be to wound the heart,
Walk away from destiny, abandon hope of new beginning
Faintly glimmering in eyes I’ve never seen.

My Soul cannot consent to yield,
Will never seal and nail shut the door.
And so I still walk the streets both day and night,
Thinking God is angered, jealous, takes away
Whatever chance of peace your voice might bring.
I am vanquished and conquered both by you and God,
Tortured by grief that Divinity refuses to relieve.

I will not renounce the prison, where mind is sadly broken.
Though I wait through winter for a spring
Whose blossom has not yet come,
Kneeling still in hope the search rises or descends
Past darkness of despair to find one day your hand,
Touch your hair, kiss upon the lips, throw roses at your feet.
On such a day as this, I will reach thrilling mountaintop,
Look down upon such tortured valley where I now dwell,
Know my suffering has not been in vain,
To rest beside, to call your name each morning when I wake.

The Saintly Moon

For me, the Moon is never haunting but saintly,
Soft light upon the ground at night,
Face looks down with hint of mournful sadness,
But never overture of death drawn
Upon its pock-marked crest.

As it swells in waxing, I cannot gaze
But that heart sings old romantic songs—
At times of long-lost days and I was in my prime,
Filled with intense passion driving pulse.
Now I’m lucky if I hear a nightingale,
Long clear call, singing songs within the dark.

Though I kiss the Moon in Moon’s full light,
I confess some melancholy weight
As Moon wanes to next to nothing.
For me this is not New Moon but Lost Moon
As I stare and see only shimmering stars,
Though high tides detect her presence
With or without reflecting light.

Just as love seems to come and go,
So to the Moon has cycles, passing phases,
Forever teaching how Earth can be profaned—
Light lost as vitals fade to darker blue.
What can we do but suck up the fog
When clouds descend to ground themselves?
Even nightingales sing their hearts out
Even though ears be saturated with song.

Out of Dark Driving Rain, There Flew a Bird With Broken Wing

 Tonight, right out of driving rain,
There flew young bird with broken wing.
I met the arrow as though it was life itself,
Springing from my solitude to save,
As love is sheltered in the quickened heart,
As dreams are treasured in morning light.

Though bird could dive and glide,
It cannot fly to seek his nest.
Inside my straining mind I prayed
To heal this brokenness—
This suffering wound that holds to ground
High flight of bird that yearns to soar….
I vowed to bird, to God, to you and to myself
To seek such power to bind the wing,
Set aside whatever sleepless doubt,
Cast off bondage of the midnight hours of pain.

Let me find the music’s hushed chord
Underlying power of healing voice,
Calm wild distress that waits in fear of night—
Then patiently sit for hours,
To share the creature’s cry and tears,
Then pray to wake within the bird
Shadow of clear white soulful beauty,
Call forth from breaking heart
Such strength, such wakened breath
That weight of wasted agony
No longer holds back the dropping crest.

Rise up!  Fly into night….
Blessed with tenderness of healing grace.
If you must let go, leave constancy behind.
Rise toward Sun of Joy with only Love,
For it alone dwells with Courage and Hope,
Three-fold to grasp as more than passing thought,
Straightforward guides your promised flight tonight.
Fly into wild wind with blessing and farewell!

Crossing Threshold into Wholeness

 Threshold is a starting space,
An open place where the Sacred
Becomes obvious and eventful.
Sacred time of prayer transforms
To universal time where veil is thin—
Sacred universe is discovered everywhere, yet again.
 
All Saint’s Day and All Souls Day
Are everyday— Deep Time
Gathered into one holy moment—
Past, present, future joined as One
As time changes to complete an ocean’s fullness.
Whatever liminal space of here and there
Now altered in awareness to a greater Unity,
All divisions healed into a boundless Whole.

Present Moment Burns

 Present moment burns itself into mind,
Yet gently like a trembling kiss or
When hearing my name in soft music.
I concentrate awareness
Looking into clear heavenly light.

The moment flies, as though
Early morning dream unclaimed.
Though it may not last in memory, it lies within my heart,
Which means as much as world to me,
Secret alcove so utterly divine.

How sweet to be connected yet apart,
Joined to One and yet to All,
To surrender yet never be enslaved,
Know my life as part of Greater Light,
Safely sleep, then wake in solitude of peace.

The Artistry That Hand of God Provides

 It is simple yet ineffable,
This world where clouds hover,
Lightly shade the shore in pink,
An artistry that hand of God provides,
Not yet destroyed by Man— not yet.

Oh, delicate dance of birds upon wet sand,
Footprints as faint brushstrokes to be seen….
Tides that roll from depths with amazing regularity.
I would not change a thing… not storms, not pain,
Not a single hour or day now it’s past and blessed.

Seeking Deepest Purpose

You are more than your father’s daughter;
Far more than your mother’s son.
You were born of Earth and Spirit
And your life has only begun.
You’ve been here ten thousand years.
Space and time are only fragile things
Compared to the power of your Soul,
Blessed by a Nameless God
Who brought you into the world.

Believe in this as you seek your Deepest Purpose.
Even the darkness of Death itself
Will never be more than a stone upon your path.
Victory and defeat are almost nothing
For those who hold Valor and Love within the heart.
You must go down into your own dark dungeons,
Found deep within Center of the Earth….
Find the Crystal Cave where you were first born,
Renew your power as you renew your holy vows,
Learn what you have been sent here to learn.

Tyranny and greed are forever what must be battled.
But truth is always heard from marrow of your bones.
Be not concerned about wounds of body,
For they conform to any shape as aches
Come sharp and straight as an arrow.
Cleanse yourself in green water of the lake,
Purify your soul so you do not carry fear or hate into night.
I cannot tell you more than this, for the Voice you seek
Is heard and known to you alone.  I can only say
You are never alone in what you seek— never, never alone.
All that matters is that you heed the Voice and the hope
That speaks within your heart will tell you why you were born.

Do not allow the natural fear of death to hold you back,
For nothing truly worthy can be accomplished in one lifetime.
Go forth with honor and speak justly on the side of Love.
When your time to pass Beyond has come, go with gratitude
For the days you’ve had and know that you are blessed.
Trust in what you are and what will be—-
Beyond anything imagined; Beyond anything eyes can see.

Half Moon Above My Shoulder

 If you know me, watch me closely,
Been admitted to my intimate circle,
Then you’ve seen furrow on my brow,
Sense shyness when I fall silent….
You recognize embrace I long for,
What is missing every morning.

Do you sense the quiet subtlety of despair,
Shadow in the eyes that dwells,
Sitting like a raven on highest branch,
Ready to fly away, but darkly waiting….?

You know I am not serene,
Walking alone the streets at night…
Moon above my shoulder
Reflecting enough light for shadow in the fog.
How can the heart feel so complete and full
Yet hold so much longing?

Desire is Where the Frustration Begins

Desire is where the frustration always begins,
Moment of Ego’s unfilled wish….
Hate I’m never in control of the Universe.
It appears so suddenly, this charge of heat,
Denial of passion’s drive to power, to pleasure,
Always hit whatever barrier that exposes me—
Weak and vulnerable to others and the Other.

It fits a pattern, I suppose….
Queen Elizabeth, the “Virgin Queen”,
Wrote a poem reflecting on her own refusals,
Yet wanted love that was refused to her.
Damn, now there goes the fantasy, destroyed,
That at least someone gets whatever they want….

Some say restraint is the underlying gift in this,
Frustration the best instructor of submission,
Even freedom, that always is clothed in costly robes.
Only with torture comes possibility of relief—
Yet another paradox I never sought or wanted.
Prospect of arousal without completion
Leads to naked anger, concentrates the mind on process
With or without conclusion, only invitation and new beginning.

Not Just the Church, But World on Fire

Dedicated to the Memory of Betty Jo Howitt  (1929-2013)

Not just Church but World on fire—
Tongues of glory moving through the atmosphere.
Though building is made of stone, endures the heat,
It signifies an infinite gathering, souls with passion,
Words, hymns spilling out of windows, doors…
Love invulnerable and yet so very vulnerable
As Pentecost completes reunion with Spirit’s blessing,
Ordained so long ago.  Music sounds in blowing wind—
Heaven reaches down with blazing inspiration.

Every lamp in the church now burns
To keep the dark outside.
Time is no one’s servant,
We cannot trap even a single minute.
Sooner or later the high tide flows,
Takes us away to the New World.
While we are here, praying inside the Church,
Perhaps the choir room is the safest choice—
Joyful voices singing as she smiles from the piano.

Though in later years her fingers were stiff and hurting,
Still her playing would seep under the skin,
Calmed your agitation just a little.
Forever I’ll look at a piano bench and see her sitting there,
Foot tapping a tune, strength of music flowing from her touch.
Only now, the clock has changed the key,
An octave higher as I listen and listen at the open door.

Always she gathered an infinite gathering,
Hymns spilling out of windows, doors…
Her eyes twinkling, sometimes winking.
Now unearthly light of dawn fills the empty room.
Not just the church, but the world on fire with singing,
Music blowing ever faintly in the wind
As heaven reaches down and suddenly she is gone
To the Kingdom of the Unimaginable—
Choir of angels singing unrestrained,
A song of hope to welcome home.