When words hide
in your mouth-mind,
charades speak.
Tag: 2019
The Impact of Reading
– 2019
Sometimes confusion or an unnamed feeling
explodes,
lit by words bursting
into meanings
previously hidden in darkness and silence.
Rejoice:
a part of your brain has
new synopses
shaping your
Mind.
Open Window
Summer-like open window
Distant hammers, distant highway:
Memories from an old photo album
Untitled
Sometimes confusion or an unarmed feeling
explodes,
lit by words bursting
into meanings previously hidden in darkness and silence.
Rejoice:
a part of your brain has
new synopses
shaping your
Mind.
Blessings, 2019
Blessing
We live
In all our messy glory;
Trapped in time,
Suspended in place.
Waiting
For the next stage,
The next hope,
The answer that eludes us.
Hold out your hands.
Cup them together
To receive this grace:
You are already holy.
Another Blessing
Stand where you are,
Reach out your arms,
Throw back your head,
Open your mouth.
Listen:
There is silence under.
Open your eyes:
Light bleeds into the dark.
Do not forget this moment.
The Third Blessing
There is no time solitary
Or gathered together
Where you are absent
Or alone.
Breathe,
Grasp,
Release,
Bow down.
Reach out,
Pull in,
Let go,
Rest.
Searchers Waiting
Pale birds, hopping, fluttering, flying –
Outside the window.
Inside,
People approach,
Hands together, bow –
Scarlet- robed Holy ones sit, nod.
One scarlet and gold draped chair
Waits.
The thangka paintings
Surround
The seated searchers.
Hashtag #spoileralert
Hashtag: #spoileralert
– After reading poems by Emily Dickinson, and Tweets on Twitter
My future hides before me;
The ending pre-ordained.
The losses will continue
But bright joys may remain.
My feet will grow more tender;
My knees and hips more lame.
I may remember much;
I may forget my name.
The ending could be sudden,
Or agonies, – and slow.
But life that waits before me
Holds time and love and hope.
The Uncertainty of Pain
The uncertainty of pain
breeds hope until
loss
silences gratitude
for what was
and is now gone.
While prayer is grasped
and groped through,
grinding new hopes into
fragments of lesser loss,
the heart
twists
The Waiting Room
In Death’s waiting room, I watch
The receptionist checking files, and
I tell her it’s not me. I don’t
Have an appointment
Yet, I hope.
This one here beside me,
Who is looking away and
Doesn’t know it’s time,
Who doesn’t want to go
Into the next room.
It’s not me, I tell her,
Not me yet, I hope.
Whipped Cream
My grandfather used to say he’d eat
Sawdust
If it had whipped cream
On it.
In my sawdust times
I chase the whipping
Cream
Of pleasing people.
Learning Living 