Friday’s Passing Fancy/Poem: For Those Who Think They are Lost but are Only Weary

Perhaps to rediscover the bedrock

of all happiness, she crouches

in the creek’s whispering path

where rocks are made of death and life,

and water becomes liquid light.

Above, forest canopy and fleet things hover

as if to pluck out, lift this small woman,

her blood laden with cellular grief,

mind a circumnavigation of hope,

bones compacted with weariness.

Late day gold floats, settles on her skin,

explodes in the air and inside her eyes,

flings her far beyond herself,

startles tears caught in her throat that

sound like the cry of an angel or animal,

that singular voice of life as it emerges

from darker places that would steal us all

if we relented, forgetting the majesty

of it, the Love that calls and recreates us

but we do not forget, we cannot forget,

immortal and mortal, each tethered

to one and another here and there.

And the woman finds power, stands, steps away.

Friday’s Quick Pick/Poem: Beyond the Ache is This

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To move, be moved by whim or design,
lilting, dipping on breezes, an invisible kite
shimmying, weightless in suspension,
a take off that is meant to fast ascend
like a creature of air, earthly or otherwise.
Any flight, any wings, lifting til gone.

I once so yearned for it, true freedom.
Plotting release from gravity,
shedding this tinsel thin flesh,
taking on feathers or silver scales,
then starting that vertical trip through
gale, fire or ice, into brave mercurial space.
Farthest away from this place of blood,
pain a clinging cape, and more
betrayals slinking by, misshapen things.

Yet my spirit found no passage for a final portal;
strength grew in place of bitter longings.

Where would wings have taken me safely?
What power would have redeemed all
unforgiven and unforgiving
and fill the cave of my heart?
Not one thing that is temporal.

Only deeper springs at bottom of the well.
I am older, know how to remember the good.
To take a bountiful day, all the Giver gives.
I was made futile by my youth but

live on, corralled by autumn’s
offerings: leaves innocent and vivid
while giving their last on earth;
this painterly stalk and branch
separating an afternoon sky;
happy howl and bark of dog; cluck of hen;
jazzy skitter of cat paws and tail;
bombast of notations from the crows.
Trees sing easy to one another and me
as I pass with a limp and nod.
My hope throbbing, a wild drum in my chest-
glory of joy careening in maze of veins:

bless and take every, any, all
this life this life this life

Friday’s Quick Pick: Poem/ Youth and Eternity

Forget the rest, all hurtful things
and any false efforts, the energies
discharged when every look and
multiple words meant more or less
than what was needed or imagined,
and still the train of youth barreled
into midnights and mornings
when what mutely drew you was an
enthrallment, a peace planted and
blooming in the heart of chaos.

Which is here, now, and reverberates
up and down canyons and trees
with arms raised as you carry on
one heartbeat at a time, rocks sharp
though they give way and mossy places
still nestled, tender after all this time.
And the water flows, falls to earth
generous with riches, and long before you.
The wind carries secrets to all creatures
yes, and kindly, and always to you who are
made of starshine, angelica, pine sap and love,
brought into this slice of time, a drop of dew,
a tiger soul resonant with ancient life.

(For my granddaughter)

Friday’s Quick Picks/Poem: Offerings

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Photos by Cynthia Guenther Richardson

The tenor of life may seem
to thin, reedy, misaligned,
a shriek, a gasp amid muted din,
sudden ruptures in connection
that will not relay joy. Yet here
we remain, humans among all others,

with a panopoly of settings for
mystery and mindfulness
to release a sweep of harmony.
I say Peace, my soul, be well moved
and please may peace follow
you and you and more than you.