When Ancient Joints Give Way

 For Danny
 
Slowly, the ancient joints give way,
Eroded by wind and rain
Earth forced to content itself as years of pressure
Crack, enlarge, separate,
Break hard stone and bone.
In silence, can you hear the pain?

All things pass through,
Are redefined without a choice.
Geography is uncertain
As appearances may not be real.
Stretch your arms and bridge the gap.
Tomorrow might be too late.

Nothing lasts.  Balance your foot
Upon the solid surface
Until you feel trembling movement,
Rocky Moon turning to dust
As it drops beneath horizon.

Do not falter upon the slippery steps.
Lean upon my arm
As consummation comes.
Such things as this have
Never happened before,
Will never come this way again.

On Leaving Your House Last Night

Leaving your house last night,
I lingered in the car,
Watching you move from room to room
Slowly turning out the lights.

Living alone, you did not pause,
Did not open book but climbed the stairs,
Stood in front of only one light
That seemed to be your own glowing spirit…..

Then the house was black.
What were you thinking?
What were you feeling?
In the silence, what was your heart saying?

Now the mist rolls in,
Brooding over the land,
Spreading itself so thinly
Yet completely covering the view.

Sudden as a Rising Wind

As sudden as a rising wind,
Strange as it both warms and chills,
Comes as blast of air yet soft as spring breeze,
Elevates my soul into ineffable space…..
Here silence so intense it stirs a place,
Wisdom so deep it calms and melts my heart to peace.

Something new is happening— a new beginning.
Never before have I been so close
To what God did at Creation,
Taking my mind, clay of flesh,
Working it, stretching it, enlarging and improving
Upon anything beyond the previous edition.

Nothing is discarded, old stones given new shape,
Obstacles dissolve in rush of new hope—
Healing and shaping my life,
Light from Great Source rushing
Through dark mist and deep water,
Tenderly illuminating and embracing….

I am no poet now, cannot reveal nor find clear words
To convey this softening, this flowing.
Only a constant energy and then of music and words,
Unable to tell if thoughts are my own or from God—
River of joyful tears flow down my cheeks as though
Some hidden dam has broken or breached.

Here in this magical light, covered with blessings of flowers—
A way, a source, a power so amazing I have no name but Love.
I am now a virgin, humble and small, yet brazen in my
Proclamation of this marvelous space….

Watch the Fading Light

Slowly the Sun sets and the heat is broken.
There is no road to walk across the lake….
No easy trail on which to stand.
Still, we hold on, swimming toward eternity
Or the lack of it, each day serving as we can.

It was said of Hemingway
That he tortured no one as much as himself.
Yet even he confessed that
Love was infinitely more enduring than hate.
Not until broken do we begin to heal.
Not until we fall do we learn to rise.
Not until lost do we find what we seek.

Sit quietly in evening coolness
Until inside you feel the rise of calming wind,
Find the oasis within the desert of your soul.
Quietly watch fading light
Until the Universe appears within the stars.

Yes, I know it hurts
When the heart is stretched so wide….
Loves not one but the Whole,
Fills the empty spaces until overflowing
Yet free of all desire.
Here the silent cry does not rise from loneliness
But Oneness with the spinning Earth.

A Private Conversation With Exploding Fireworks

 For A. D.
 
Having just returned from watching fireworks,
Celebrating the Fourth of July— thousands gathered
On the public parks and lawns, children running
As they waited for Sun to set over the western hills.
The context is a wealthy town not far from the Hudson River,
Early in the 21^st Century, approaching over a hundred years
Of rising Empire and now on the possible slide down from its apex….

May I speak to you as though you and I are the only ones,
Here within privacy of these four imagined walls,
Intensely reflecting if only for a moment on where we are?
Today, for me, it was an extraordinary day, as I am sure it was for you.
You surround by your family.  I was alone, reflecting on
So many passing things, walking among gravestones of the dead—
Patriots of war who sacrificed their lives—  even now
It makes me weep to see what they gave up.
We should never assume that soldiers living
In the harsh realities of war are not thinking about
High ideals of gallantry, nobility, duty and willing sacrifice.

Tonight, the sky was clear.  I could see surrounding towns,
Rockets in the distance arching into the air,
Exploding soundlessly in a multitude of  brilliant and muted colors
That only a great poet could hope to describe.
As darkness arrived upon the local stage,
Fire streaked through the warm night,
Bursting high above me, great exploding displays—
Ovals and circles and parabolas of light.

Fireworks are interesting things
For revealed within their brief moment
Lies deep order– design, careful manufacture,
Intent and intelligent calculation all timed precisely,
To be released to burn when fuse is lit to burst alive,
Branding deep into the imagination of the viewer.  With each bomb,
Cries of young girls—nine or ten— but only girls—
Where were the cries of boys?  Here only yards away
Such power, such awesome and thunderous beauty
Literally on display for all to see and hear together.
Surely there were those within the large crowd,
Besides myself, who saw this play as metaphor for life itself—
So bright, so fleeting in the plunge to darkness….

With so many of the exploding works of art,
Perhaps a hundred stars or more dancing together
Orchestrated as though in an intricate ballet—
Yet so often there was one singular star
Soaring higher or wider away from the rest.
I could not venture whether by aberration or design,
But over and over I came to see these wayward stars
As you, shining so brightly, attracting attention to yourself,
Not necessarily by intention but by singular path….
Exploding and imploding forces of the universe.

These “orphans” seemed to find essence of their beauty
Not within the crowd, but standing apart—
Never diminished but in fact enhanced in energy as
They fell alone, whether slow or fast, down to Earth at last.
Of course I know at times you’ve wanted to end your life.
The suffering that you bear within your soul
Is at times so heavy….
I only hope you feel I sense some measure of your pain,
Admire and honor your journey on this plane of existence.

Your life is not mine to  live.  I have few answers,
Barely glimpse some of the questions that arise for you,
But I hear your cry, feel it reverberate down and down
Into the universal and silent space within my own soul.
Ultimately, it is not left to me to say that you must live,
Though I may fight your impulse to destroy the light
Now carried so brightly in your body, mind and heart.
I will stand forever at the edge of the cliff to block your way.

I trust you won’t misconstrue my words
If I say how much I love you—not in any perverted sense,
But I cannot be silent and not confess, man to man,
That I cannot put boundaries around my open heart
When touched so deeply as it was tonight—
Watching glorious display of stars fall to their fate.
I sat there in awe and wept—
For you, for me, for all of humanity.
Some have written of Shakespeare that he had
Such gentleness of spirit that none could speak with him
Or behold his very presence without sensing
Bond of deep affection toward him that passage of time
Did not diminish, which lasted beyond limits of death itself.

I’m sure we could both name
Those great men and women of history who had
This sense of charisma— Helen, Achilles, Alexander, Jesus, Moses,
Francis, Gandhi, Mandala had this gift of Deep Soul.
You have your own unique gift of personality,
Intelligence and charisma—
Whether by fate or karma or
Shaped by your private suffering.

You should not take pride in this.  Many others have this as well.
I suspect we all have such capacity if we are vulnerable to it,
Open ourselves as you at times have done with me…
When you dive down to the painful depths of Ocean’s Deep.
Most run away from this or hide it until alone.
But with you it is more visible, and this vulnerability is a precious gift,
Shaped both in solitude and by the forces that have
Buffeted and bullied you in this cruel, cruel world.
As yet you have not developed an elephant’s hide,
Perhaps you never will…..
But you are uniquely beautiful and so deeply loved.
Two days ago, I saw a glimpse of this from your family
When I had to tell them that you told me
That you were going to kill yourself.
I heard their cry, sensed their urgency as they
Rushed to be with you, to protect you from yourself.

Please take the time to acknowledge that you are loved.
There are so many fractured families—
And I know yours has also failed you at times.
None of them are perfect, yet each and every one
Would feel your loss like a knife in the heart—
As would I— so deeply do we wish to see you live.
You are a precious star, streaking through the night,
Exploding brightly into sight,
Touching more than you will ever realize.
You have a tattoo upon small of your back,
Chosen by yourself— an Arabic symbol for the name of GOD.

I will say no more for now, other than that
You are very present in my prayers this night,
Hoping you will find a way to cling to life,
Experience healing and soaking love
In such a way that over time you’ll have greater strength,
Different perspective on what you have to face.
I know you know that I am here for you….

Antonius, Your Beauty Still Inspires

Ah, noble Antonius— the model of your age,
Thick clustered curls worn by men and girls….
Even now still admired for subtle smile,
Slight curve upon the lips,
Vacant eyes in marble carved, trace of melancholy …..
Fixed upon some distant view, perhaps just rising
From dream of wild and radiant god.

At your feet, youth of Rome would kneel,
Sing your name in music,
Carve in white marble your glorious brow,
Trembling rays of morning Sun
Burn your image into history, zenith of Empire’s beauty.
There was no open shame, no misery so vain,
Beating hearts unrestrained from wanting you,
Blessing you with promises and long silent sighs at night.

How finely wrought the chiseled face,
On you the hope of love would set
Though they could not be but passing chance,
Body naked but for drape, standing
High on column placed on temple streets.
What golden fruit, what heavy seed
Did you cast on languid summer days
To those who strained to nest within your bed?

Even now our beating hearts burn with envy,
Hear echoed melody of ancient vesper hymns,
Eternal beauty keeping silent as endless stars,
Knowing your world is still the same world as ours.
Though no longer do men wear such curls as yours,
No longer do slaves bow low upon the floor—
Yet still in solitude we offer prayer,
Bear tears upon the cheek at night
When sleep evades, entangled sheets
Damp from secrets clinging in the dark….
Pray whatever love our hearts can bear will last
As long as marbled beauty sculpted in the past.

As water clearly mirrors sky if winds are calm,
So, too, do stalwart trees withstand the storm,
Yet still all marble busts shall turn to dust…..
Only beauty lasts undisturbed within the mind,
Reflects true image of the highest Self—
Our gratitude, Antonius, we give you that.