Shared Silence

It is a time
past the time of talk,
past the time of argues.

There is a time of silence,
a shared silence;
a time to accept,
a time to simply
slip into old slippers
and Be.

No matter the world,
this time is ours.
Maybe not to fill
all the empty spaces
but given time,
blends them

into a communion
of shared silences.
2

When David Died

I say that David took the hands off my clocks.
It was the greatest gift he could give me.
I tire of running my life with a large hand and a small hand.
No time for this, hurry for that.   Do this now, do that before.
I hate it.   With a passion.

I want to immerse myself in time and swim in it.
Feel it around me yielding
and yet holding me up.
I want to feel the eternity of it
and I want to see my house and yard
at different times under the sun.
To be able to say that in the morning
this is precisely how they look.
I want the information stored in my Memory Bank
for those times when I feel bereft.

I want to see the moon rise and give way to the sun.
I want to see the rainbow
around the moon and say again
we are in for a big snow.
I want to find the joy in the mundane task
of shaking out the kitchen rugs
on the back porch and feel the cold boards
beneath my slippers and the cold air
stealing beneath my clothes.
I want to keep looking at the moon with a glance
because no farmer stares at the moon too long
and say hello David.

And when I feel very homesick,  I will again
as I have in the past, take my coffee
out on the porch and sit beneath the midnight sky
with the stars daring me to look up
and identify them and again

revel in this multifaceted existence called Life.
2

The Dance

There is a dance that our feet learn to do when first we stand up.  That dance
is learned well, for even when our feet no longer dance, our phantom feet 
remember the dance.   They itch to dance.   And under penalty of death we
think, we stay with it.   If we decide to learn new steps, the old steps often need
to be altered.  And if they are, we think we are not needed for our dance or we
feel our steps are not noticed anymore and are taken for granted.   Either way
we may feel sorry for ourselves or worse, give up.   Very few give in and learn
new steps, perhaps slower ones.   The new dance feels alien to our self image 
and we are certain we will be laughed at.   Fortunately others do not remember
our old steps as we who danced them.   In the fashion of our admired dance
stars, we skimmed the floor and swept others along with us.

And that is the kicker.   When one is aware that a new step is needed, one is
aware also that the dance is soon ending.  How to do it gracefully,  with a
sweeping dip that barely touches the floor, takes a nimble body and mind.
Most of us do it with the tentative steps we learned when first we learned
to dance.   For the vision might still be sweeping, but the body falters.   And
before we know it, the audience's attention is riveted on younger feet still
learning new and beguiling steps.  We shuffle off the floor.   Our dance is over.

And we are never the wiser that the young feet doing the new dance could
not dance at all had we not learned the old dance first. 
3

A Resolution

Let us resolve to fall in love with our Earth.  Since many resolutions have
already died let us fall in love with our Earth and keep her alive.  Yet
how does one fall in love with Earth?   It is easy.   It is a different kind of
feeling, a oneness, a union that nothing dissolves nor divides.  It is the
steadiness,  the compliance of all things in Nature that yield to a bidding
when it is done with love.   She is not secretive.  She is an open book.

 

This love is a desire to return to a place where the heart knows its
completeness, in its wholeness with the laws of Nature.  We become one
and the same.   We are what the seeker chooses to establish when all else fails
to come to fruition.  When there is nothing that satisfies, there is always
the hope and response in the garden, in the fields and in the forests.  In its
beaches and in its waters.  It is a communion with the holiness in us and a
love which puts all else to shame unless it measures up.

 

It is a comfortable place to be.  It is what we choose in place of
relationships that wither with disillusion.   Nature does not.   She gives
from an unending Source, reaching into her carpetbag to bring forth bits
of revelation to entice, to give one reason to keep trying.   Yet when she
falters, for every grievance she dispenses, there is redress.  In time there
is an adjustment, a correction for every injury.   She is easy to love.   And
no matter the number of other worlds,  this one is worth taking care of.   No
illusions are necessary because she is sufficient unto herself.

 

In retrospect, this planet has suffered with our lack of stewardship.  So
let us fall in love with her.  Let us resolve to make her an object of our affection
and take care of her.   It is time now to assume guardianship of this place
we call home.

 

For this time it is all we have.
2

Gift of Time

I am in a January
which thinks it is an April.
I fully expect to see
the rose in bloom and perhaps it is.
In my mind I have transplanted
the marigolds and set the annuals
in their proper places.

In my part of the world I awake.
It is dawn and I prepare for the new day.
The dogs are put out and  
the papers brought in.
And in the dailyness there is virtue.

I marvel at the continuity of it all.
In the beauty of the day
I now see all days and
in the quiet of the night,
I note the world's silence.

In recognition of who I am
in connection with All That Is,
I am grateful.
I have taken this gift of time

and richly wear it like a money belt.
7

A Toast

May the winter sun warm you
and the winter moon
house your heart.

May the world
set the stage for your dreams.
And may love
choreograph your life.

Look up!

With these the New Year will be rich.
4

Christmas Lullaby

Christmas_lullaby

The moon assists the drama
heralding the arrival
of the event
locked within memory.

A place, deep within time’s measure
nudges from familiar territories
the clockwise turn of events.

Incense, sweet hay,
pungent holly, sweeping palms,
evergreen.

The eye follows the moon rays
to find the final beam
lodged in our heart.
The ear strains to hear
the lullaby last

to find we are the music.
1

An Offering

In all things good we ask that a Light so shine
that the good works which are ours
will glorify and exemplify all that is true
and divine,  both within us
and within the Earth.   We ask 
Divine guidance be placed
upon our heads and within our hearts
that we may bring to light
all that we have been taught and
all that we have learned.

We ask in all names that signify
the blessedness of life and the glory
which is both Divine and human.  

We ask,  please receive.   Amen.
2

Waiting For Santa Claus

Waiting_for_santa_claus

The bare floor of the landing,
midway to the top of the stairs.
began to bite her knees and she grew weary.
Her chin pressed the ledge of the frozen window
where her breath left a misty hole.
Her eyes followed the range of the stars,
afraid, afraid of missing the sainted friend
who would deliver her heart’s desires.

Her vigil continued and
the night grew weary of itself.
The house slept under the weight
of the wonderless slumbering within
and its old bones creaked with fatigue.

She did not move and
her  eight years spoke her eight millennia.
The promise was not for now but of forever.

Erstwhile urchin, never blended the phases
of  the child’s dreams, but the boiling
of  the witch’s brew to drink
from  the cauldron of life’s ironies.

It was the story written of the night
in  which a million stars stole the night.
She long remembered the banishment
and  in her vigil she would have
reclaimed  the homestead.

It was not to be.    But in its stead,
the  morning fir stood and the lights
reflected  the stars which distilled
their  radiance in the eyes of the child.
Not for long was the long wait.
She claimed her right as a child of the night

and  gift wrapped was her life.

2

A Life Worthy

Life is kind to those who treat her kindly.  But if intensity, with its power is used, then life desires to meet her match.  And uses the match for preparation to a higher glory that has little bearing on what one believes.   It is not a matter of life in a hereafter that has one floating on a bed of tranquility.   When life’s conditions are met in the physical, there will be testing periods only chosen by the person who feels the need to gather time and put it to use in a way that others would find untenable.

Who would put or pit themselves against situations that would force a do or die attitude?  Who would force themselves to grow in spite, despite all prevailing attitudes about stress and stress related illnesses, except the soul who knows a something that seems to escape the knowledge of others?

Escapes the knowledge of others.   It is an ancient thought that has propelled some to the present now with the knowledge that by stressing themselves they will prove capable of better and higher things.   And not necessarily in physical life.   There is something innate that tells them there is a something beyond physical life and when pressed, they will shrug and say who knows?    Or some such bright saying.   They will also when pressed deny it and say we work for our family, for position, for the good of some worthwhile cause.   But the truth of the matter lies in the fact that what they are saying is that they want to be qualified.   Qualified to pass a higher judgment to qualify for a position of work that will enable their transport into a world unlike the one they have known.

And the world held in mind is different than their neighbors, in that it will be of memory as they bring it to conscious mind.  These will be glimpses.  They could not elaborate if their lives depended on it and could not describe nor articulate their feelings.   It is done with the hope that what propelled them here has resulted in a life worthy of graduation to a something higher. They are in a cooperative venture with the heavens.   There is assistance for the intense desire of the pilgrim.  It is there for the asking.

Though the majority of us feel we are plowing the field with runaway horses, it is enough to find  at the end of the day, that we too have been tested.  And found worthy.
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