Though health may elude me or
riches arrive, betray and leave
there is a wonder that visits
with a whisper, a deep ease of life
and folds me into gratitude
like a cocoon; it generates courage
and beauty that cannot wither.
For still humanity dares to be humane,
wild creatures birth and roam.
Sun watches like a merciful witness
and moon gilds our way through sleep.
Again, ripening harvest times
break open a splendor of change.
Rains signal to me like gifted
fingers over ancient drums.
Inside this breath, upon this heart
there is certainty of an etheric veil
which sways open and closed
like wings of rarest guardians
of one Love, one Life, one God.
I retrieve these gifts, bow my head.
(See you folks in ten days–I’m off on another small adventure. Be well.)
The next two weeks will be busy with places and people far from here so posts will be fewer. I leave you with this older poem oft revised as I prepare to attend a writers’ conference. Catch you again next Wednesday!
Blessings your way,
I consider the essential of all fruits,
artful spheres of blush and chill,
voluptuous, innocent of harm, a
rare simplicity in hand, on tongue,
happiness offered, never wasted.
An apple shines amid daily rumors
of ruin, confirmations of death.
Pressed closer to nose and lips,
this first scent and taste recalls
the hearty good which yet remains.
That such a thing so ordinary,
perfect, snug in my palm
could seem a salvation
frightens and reassures me
as I bite, savor sweetness,
its life sap moving from
bright skin to fill my hunger,
keeping at bay a bitter world.
Nothing can be saved but that
we heed the call to our humanity,
take up hearts and minds to
stave off the deafening winds
of disregard and retribution.
Our world has not yet perished.
These lives we carry withstand
errors and woundings, the heave
of grief and swell of need.
But it cannot hoard emptiness
that pretends as if it is fullness or
ignorance as if wisdom, and fare well.
Let not any thought render useless
the import of daily dreams and acts.
Instead create right and good of little,
be amazed, enamored of one another,
find strength in a more willing spirit
and walk with expectancy into that
center where light cannot be hidden.
Nor ourselves, though rent by hardship,
no less valiant, not undone, unmoved.
Nothing can be saved but that
we heed the call of our humanity.
Buoy up, protect heart and mind
then combat this maddening noise
of destruction and revenge.
Be one among the many who hold fast,
remind yourself this is necessary,
it is humane as it is brilliant:
to build the courageous engine of hope
even when hope may beg to flee.
In the early morning as
visitations pause or fade,
past and future days that
will call upon one’s strength,
all bright wings and brokenness
left to such fading plum blackness,
its comforts, lessened terrors spilled as
sweet water over trespassed body, mind:
Lo, such a beautiful prison of humanness!
This right to wonder, to seek holiness
before hot tea and cinnamon bagel,
waking in shivery autumnal light
that tenders skin and bones and
illumines precious air as soul
nests within, home again,
just one sacred feather.