Swim to Me Out of the Morning Mist

Mamanasko Lake

There are mornings when I wake
Wondering where God is hiding….
Some say the written Word
Is the second Bible to be read—
First Bible was the Act of Creation,
That God of a Thousand Names is found
Throughout the world wherever we may look.

And so each day, I gaze into the mist—
Searching for face of the Invisible,
Not to be found in solemn concepts
But crying out to be uncovered in forgotten dreams,
Sublimely present, here in beginning center,
On ending margins where glory lives,
In tears or laughter of every child.

Do not allow me to hide, O Spirit.
Swim to me out of the morning mist.
Soften my heart that I may perceive.
Uncloud my eyes that I might see.
Follow me in every hour.
Walk as close as my shadow
Though I turn my back to the Sun.

Come as Strength in times of lonely terror,
When I am blind and numb.
All the world seems dark mystery.
In stillness, help me hear the silent voice of God,
Find you within the eyes of every person,
Discover you in mountain, river, tree.
Guide me in my search for Thee.

This Is Our Moment and This Is Our Song

dark-sun-over-the-clouds

Fine dust drifts down from above,
Covers the Earth like skin.
Even the sky is heavy with poison,
Cries tears that only blinds us.

This is our moment and this is our song,
Soon to be unsung. Face it—
The more that you know, the worse you are.
Drink up; refill your cup. You’re drunk.

Some today will sing songs of Hope.
They know that it’s wrong,
But who wants to praise futility of song?
Where is the hero who says “I am not essential”?

Praise, instead, the futility of song.
Acknowledge that love was here and now is gone.
Tomorrow, go to the bank and count your money.
All you believe is wrong.

Go buy a gun. Buy six guns!
Do you think that guns will save you?
Look in a mirror and what do you see?
Do you know both sides of the mirror are blind?

The more you know, the less you are.
Can you face that reality? It’s too late—
Whatever you think you know is wrong.
There’s nothing to put in your cup but dust.

Minion of Turkeys

wild-turkeys-spokane-sep24-1

Rushing out the door for an appointment,
I hurry down the walk, only to find
Not one or two but twelve wild turkeys
Entering from the road into my yard.
The dog is on the porch but does not bark,
Only watches as they slowly walk—
Dark unruffled feathers,
Almost like bark upon the hickory trees.

They slowly wander in unruffled way,
Eating seeds, insects as they go….
Talking, gabbling with every step
Dipping heads toward the Earth,
As though a minion of Jews
Bobbing their heads while praying.

Working their way through the grass,
They stop at crest of the hill,
Gaze toward the lake as one of them
Fully opens his wings and preens,
Flexing in the morning light.

And then they soar to lower yard,
Down by the lake, past the long shadows
Extending from the oak trees,
Slowly walking onto my neighbor’s place
Without ever thinking to ask permission,
Almost as though they know
Whichever way they turn is home.

Necessary Longing

Necessary Longing

For V.S.N.

First there is necessary longing,
Where you see the whole world aflame,
And your heart cannot say no—
You know it is futile to resist, and so you join.

For me, there is first the longing that pulls,
Followed by desire to unite….
Do not stand in the way and it will deepen,
And then realization that this is healing.

Some call this surrender.
But I’m making it sound like it happens quickly.
For most, it is a slow walk toward trust,
Gradual letting go— unlearning.

Your arms reach outstretched
As do branches of trees toward heaven….
Maybe something is dissolved— or resolved.
Then an unexpected inner power flows again—
One word for this is transformation.

Hardest part for me is staying out of the way,
Allowing love to open reluctant heart.
When was the last time you permitted yourself
To be fully loved and embraced?
Maybe you’ve been content with less for far too long.

Give Me Wonder

Give Me Wonder

For V.S.N.

What more can I ask this day than wonder,
For wonder is the path to what is sacred,
Approached barefoot in this instant moment
Though it touches upon near and far.

Ironic, that only within what is finite
Can the infinite be reached….
What makes me humble is when I see
I have only power to conceal or retreat.

Knowing almost nothing,
I know that my heart longs to be open,
Embracing deeper sense of romance
In spite of what fears are there.

May love sustain; may love pour forth—
For that would be pure wonder….
Spread out the skies for me tonight.
Allow me to see the brightness of the stars.

I Am Here Because I Thirst

Desert Spaces

Finally, after many years,
There is no going back.
I am here—
Lost in open spaces.
The dunes seem endless,
Wave upon wave upon wave of sand.

The only recourse left is to follow
Soaring bird, high above—
Wherever it may lead
In distant clouds unknowing.
I would not be here but that I thirst.

Bless each step I take, O Lord,
Master of the Universe and the Opening Light—
All that had to be created
To create a single rose.
O Reader, teach me how to walk.

Who Has Answer for the Owl?

Owl_at_Night 

Sometimes I wake up hungry,

Though never am I starved.

Room might be rather chilly,

But within my heart is heat

To push away North wind.

Even though I wake up tired,

Am thankful for the rest last night.

 

Last night before I slept,

Heard distant whistle of a train,

Slowly going up a hill

Against November wind—

Followed by cry of solitary owl ,

Sounding melancholy in the dark.

 

It seemed the world tonight

Held no merry note, only pain and fear.

Looking out my window,

I saw blood upon the streets;

Dam was breached and there was

Stagnant water now poisoning the trees,

Flowing down rivers, killing all the fish.

 

Tonight there is only lonely cry of the owl.

“Who? Who? Who?” Who will speak

For others now laying under stars?

Who will answer knock upon the door,

Provide a place to rest within the inn?

Who will speak for those now hungry,

Cold and tired—as sometimes I have been?

And all I hear is the voice of a solitary bird

Crying in the wind: “Who? Who? Who?”