The Echo Of Hate There is something that is left after you have forgiven someone. And what is left feels like ashes. Soft flakes of what you can pick up after all that emotion has been burnt away. Forgiveness can be very efficient at deleting from your mind and heart and soul that shackle that kept you folding over in pain at the memory of the event. Forgiveness can be the key. But what is left over when you are free has its own...
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The Face of God I stand before the stand of trees The wood The expanse before me And I see the shards of light— the asymmetric design of relief from the darkness and I think of God Of walking through— trying to walk through— the challenges laid at my feet. Looking out on the faces of mankind but knowing that, in truth, on that day, anyway, I am walking on the path of God; that can evaporate under my feet. Or lead me to a...
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In Keeping Still It was a day like every other during that period of my life. A student. An English student. I worked. I studied. I went to class. Circles. Ever-turning circles. But no labyrinth because there was no Minotaur at the center. A spiral of life. Onward. Steady. Paced. Then the day came. I entered the classroom. Dickens. A teacher that looked a bit like Father Christmas. Other students. I sat near the front, to the right....
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Opening Watering the flowers after a long, hot, dry spell the earth changing its color deepening its hue the flowers themselves savoring the new flow of refreshment happy in the sun now thirst quenched for the moment Filling the dishes food and water touching the soft heads saying, good morning do you want to go out? it might be a bit cold or too rainy or look at all that snow happy eyes gazing back almost a smile Opening my arms...
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Full Full I look at my emptiness And I see my full-up-ness Full of debris Broken pieces Remnants Leftovers of clashes Of lost connections Of misunderstandings And understandings made sparkling clear How do I sort it all out Make a path, even, through it all There are no trash bags for the soul And while the soul is made up of the dirt of our lives Too much refuse is still just that Too much We work on disciplines so that we may be...
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A Failure to Fail Examination Being scrutinized It has been hard Living a life Of being told Not to be me So, since that was not possible I had to design an exterior A mask I’m not really as competent as I seem As though my competency were the loose edge of a carpet threatening to trip you So in passing the examination with flying colors I fail I remember being scolded for learning to ride a bicycle faster than my brother,...
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Standing Still I looked out at my journey. And I saw a head of broccoli: All sorts of paths heading out from one stem. Or at least giving the impression of heading out. Because each path ended in a burst. A flourishing. But, ultimately, going nowhere. A forest of trees – but no continuing on. Each tree becoming an ending in itself. So I just stood there. Knowing that each path was, essentially, that exact same as the others. It made...
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Burnt Offering Ashes: What is left over after the flame goes out. The fire. The fire of anger. The fire of lust. The fire of enthusiasm. Wholeness in pieces. My wholeness. My completeness. How do I function in pieces? Broken apart. My heart over here; my hand over there. Even if they retained their wholeness. Their completeness. I am broken apart. Scattered. Vulnerable to the the threatening wind. Or I could soak into the ground....
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