Heron
swoops in
before me,
wings rustling
the wind.
Light footsteps
barely brush
fertile earth.
Feathers fluff,
eyes take in all.
A quiet, gentle
spirit is.
Then beak jabs
soft ground –
some small snake
captured.
Heron shakes
and shakes
his head
to effect
sure death.
A good meal
on a clear day.
In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
“In this world you will have trouble.”
(John 16:33)
“If you are alive and breathing, you will have trouble in this world. Either you will hunt the dragon, or the dragon will hunt you. There is no escaping it.”
(Jim Burgen)
Sea monsters
jump and dive
with gaping mouths
and teeth of daggers
never satisfied.
Hunt for the next meal
composed of human
souls, men and
women of faith.
Pray and work, then
pray and work.
Gasp for breath,
just one more
breath before going
under yet again.
Remember how to swim,
reach and kick. The surface
is not out of reach.
Relax and float,
trust the arms, strong
arms of support
bearing the weight.
Yes, float and trust.
Risk a breath now –
breathe –
air fresh and new.
a poem I wrote in 2016…
Birthing
To hide from this brutal
world, I jam myself
into the corner of a room
where two sturdy walls
meet, promising me
shelter – while storms
rage without and within.
Farther and farther
into the corner I’m smashed,
becoming smaller
but more real – dense – strong
as the walls themselves.
Stronger: A black hole,
infinitely condensed.
Here I sit waiting, forgetting
to breathe for millennia, anticipating
the much-desired explosion birthing
brilliant new worlds, billions
of whole babies nursing on love, proving
that Love is – indeed –
stronger than death.
Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago in the sestina form
(originally published at The Camel Saloon in 2013):
Yoga paths make whole,
send our hearts reaching
out from bodies united
to mind, breath, energy.
We stretch arms, legs, center –
all for blossoms of clarity.
Physical aches and stress clear
away, and even heart’s holes
are healed. Our centeredness
flows from opposites reaching
then blending. Energetic
bodies grow toward union.
Finite minds see unity
with Cosmic Mind; cleared
breath brings life-energy
and mental wholeness.
Contentment at last: a reach,
a handshake, with our true center.
Rambling thoughts are centered;
desperate regrets, fears reunited
with inner peace. Vistas reached
via persistence; wide clearings
bring options and fill holes
opened by misused energies.
Physically, mentally re-energized,
we remember our center:
Honoring the soul makes us whole.
We realize yoga means union
(with God). Our tangled paths clear,
reveal the goal within reach.
Pointless desires drift from reach
of fickle hearts. Our energies
refocus new-found clarity:
Live for God, from our soul-center
to manifest ever-true unity,
the wholeness of holiness.
God’s love reaches us with clarity
to make whole our divided energy:
Our heart-center rests in unity.
Holistic Yoga & Spiritual Guidance 