Missing (a poem for Davide)

When you are there and I am here,
I long to hold you close, my dear,
when the work day makes us miss,
delicious lips I long to kiss.

Some day we shall recall the way,
work and child kept us away,
walking sweetly hand in hand,
upon some beach of golden sand.

Reminiscing -- all the years,
all the salty mermaid tears,
washed us clean and made us whole,
bound our hearts and blessed our soul.

Missing is one thing I,
can tolerate, until the sky
leads me to you, back again,
wrapped in arms of dearest friend.

I Don't Know Why (a song)

A memory hits the heart and turns it upside down
everything inside spills out, turning me around
precious jewels I thought I long ago, cast into the sea
like the tide, ceaselessly, circle back to me
and

I don't know why
I don't know why
it isn't like you look at me the way you used to
I don't know why
I don't know why
the heart holds on to love, a whole life through.
I don't know why
I don't know why.

Horses fly down old dirt roads, pure, white, and free,
the way you rode into my soul, saw inside of me,
that place, only you knew, only we knew,
but you don't feel any of the dust of we two,
and

I don't know why
don't know why
it isn't like I still long to be with you, so
I don't know why
I don't know why
the heart holds on to love, a whole life through.
I don't know why
I don't know why.

Maybe someday I can let you go
and never think of us
and how we used to know
that the heart knew, the heart knew . . .

But,
I don't know why
don't know why
it isn't like you look at me the way you used to
I don't know why
I don't know why
the heart holds on to love, a whole life through.
I don't know why
I don't know why.

Fall Into the Brown (a song)

Fall into the brown, fall into your soul,
into hot chocolate pools, and swim to what I know,
fall into the deep, spinning down and down,
I'm never coming back, and I don't want to,
I fall into the brown.

Mahogany and chestnut, who knew there could be,
this many shades of earth, I never looked to see.
I fall in every time, you look at me that way,
and all I need is strength to find another way to

fall into the brown, fall into your soul,
into hot chocolate pools, and swim to what I know,
fall into the deep, spinning down and down,
I'm never coming back, and I don't want to,
I fall into the brown.

Your moon hides in the darkness and it winks at me,
obsidian with a dash of light, to shine into my sea
I fall in every time, no hope can there be,
but baby if this is hopeless, show me the way to

fall into the brown, fall into your soul,
into hot chocolate pools, and swim to what I know,
fall into the deep, spinning down and down,
I'm never coming back, and I don't want to,
I just want to fall into the brown.

Learning to Love with Open Hands

The thing about Buddhism that always trips me up is the detachment---detaching--non-attachment . . .whatever! When something is good and delicious in this life, the natural and all-too-human instinct is to grab it with both hands and hang on for dear life.

And this, friends, is the root of all our suffering.

Tonight, for the first time in our nascent relationship, my lover went to bed early, halfway across the country, and shut off his computer and cell phone before retiring. He also sent me an email, saying he was fading fast and was going to go to bed. And also, that he loved me and was thinking of me, and some other sweet and savory words.

Were his words, which should have been like manna for my heart, enough to satiate my hunger, my grasping, for him?

nope.

Instead, I watched with amusement as I got upset, then started doubting his love and desire for me, and for this "us", and then the piece de resistance: the Ghost to Beat All Ghosts arrived in her full regalia . . .I started to doubt myself.

Eventually, though, I did what I almost always do when I get a ticket for the Self-Awareness Train . . .I started writing.

So here I am.

I found that I actually moved pleasingly quickly from a space of upset and doubt, to one of acceptance and trust. If this keeps up, I might actually start skipping the doubt altogether. Now, THAT would be a neat trick, and it's about time.

My precious lover has quickly taught me many things. Probably without meaning to, he helped me learn another lesson tonight. I learned to love with open hands. Grazie, amore mia.

Querido (a song)

I know that I can't take away his pain,
or stop the tears from falling like spring rain,
but there is nothing that I wouldn't do,
for my sweet friend, forever, querido.

We never know the how, the why, or when
from heaven comes another precious friend.
This one rests in a special corner of
my sanctuary lit with pure white love.

I didn't know I had it inside me,
the way I learned to love and then set free,
the one who saw into me, eyes sky-blue,
my sweet friend, forever, querido.

I'll never know just how I managed it,
patience comes to those who still and sit,
the wisest lessons--- I will never learn,
while crimson fires, they forever burn.

I know that I can't take away his pain,
or stop the tears from falling like spring rain,
but there is nothing that I wouldn't do,
for my sweet friend, forever, querido.

Fly To You (a song)

All at once I know what I should do,
spend sweet time learning to love you,
run to you when I can't see the light,
trusting everything will turn out right.

when direction I should take is not too clear,
when all that I can taste is bitter fear,
nothing better now for me to do,
than turn and fly on golden wings to you.

Trusting comes so slow and isn't neat,
learning how to fly by my pants' seat,
dancing in a darkened room sometimes,
and learning how to speak each other's rhymes.

When direction I should take is not too clear,
when all that I can taste is bitter fear,
nothing better now for me to do,
than turn and fly on golden wings to you.

Why create all sorts of useless questions?
Just take my hand and walk in this direction.

Ghosts haunt these parties of sweet beginning,
spin hearts around like plates that are spinning,
but my ghosts don't stand a single chance,
they really can't stand it when we dance.

When direction I should take is not too clear,
when all that I can taste is bitter fear,
nothing better now for me to do,
than turn and fly on golden wings to you.

Water Spirit (a poem by Lyra)

My dear friend Lyra wrote this. Recently rediscovered, it was shared with me and because I instantly loved it, onto the web journal it went . . .(and it has the words "ocean goddess" in it!)

Mountain cascades
winter ice
vapor disappearing
darkness into hovering cloud
bursting, washing, clearing

Smallest droplets
on the threads
of a spider's weavings
droplets far as eye can see
ocean heaving, swelling

Water spirit
source of life
ocean goddess flowing
streaming, cleansing
blood of earth
river-veined, betstowing

Where Have You Been? (a song)

What? What did I do?
To deserve this kind of love from you?
How? How good must I have been,
To call you now, my sweetest friend?
When? When was I a saint?
God covers us with golden paint,
And Where? Where have you been?
It's good with you, with me again.

I see you clearly now
standing at my future,
I can only see you,
smiling at what you reflect.

There are no doors between us
that you won't open wide
every time I knock you say,
come on in, baby, come inside.

What? What did I do?
To deserve this kind of love from you?
How? How good must I have been,
To call you now, my sweetest friend?
When? When was I a saint?
God covers us with golden paint,
And Where? Where have you been?
It's good with you, with me again.

Sometimes you just know
you really just know
it's the stuff of fairy tales,
I don't care if no one else believes.

We believe enough for now,
we'll make it somehow,
day spins into day~
and we won't throw this chance away.
hold another close,
see what matters most
I want to know,
where have you been?

And I see you clearly now
standing at my future,
I can only see you
smiling at what you reflect.

There are no doors between us
that you won't open wide
every time I knock you say,
come on in, baby, come inside.

What? What did I do?
To deserve this kind of love from you?
How? How good must I have been,
To call you now, my sweetest friend?
When? When was I a saint?
God covers us with golden paint,
And Where? Where have you been?
It's good with you, with me again.

The Light of a Thousand Lanterns (a poem)

Winter was long,
the icy nights, dark.
From the top of the tree
into which I'd climbed,
I saw--
the hint of light.

Squinting into the black,
I climbed down,
stumbling in your direction.

Nearer it seemed,
as the winds swirled in my heart
and the scent of love,
came to me on the early spring breeze.

At once, the rain and sun
broke
into my empty spaces
and filled me with white again.

Ancient songs called,
ancient rhythms repeated,
a whisper in obsidian --
the light of a thousand lanterns,
was lit for me that day.

Bind Your Wounds (A song)

Why are any two brought together,
to learn to sail seas in stormy weather,
to be a salve on badly wounded hearts,
to pray again for second starts.

Chorus:
I will be your light, will you be mine,
when I can't find the reason or the rhyme?
I'll be there to whisper who you are,
hold you up to touch the furthest star,
rebuild your ancient solitary ruins,
hold you tight enough to bind your wounds.

Light shines from within and then shines through
passes golden grace, my heart to you,
but no one ever knows the reasons why
when two sparks touch, light silver winter's sky.

Chorus:
I will be your light, will you be mine,
when I can't find the reason or the rhyme?
I'll be there to whisper who you are,
hold you up to touch the furthest star,
rebuild your ancient solitary ruins,
hold you tight enough to bind your wounds.

Mermaid's Heart (a poem)

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives longing--
shimmering and brilliant,
silver moonbeams on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives passion--
furious and sweet,
red tide on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives laughter--
bubbling and dancing,
green frothy foam on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives love--
strong and tender,
driving white rain and mist on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives peace--
vast and star-filled,
indigo sky over black night water.

Little Souls Fly (a song)

Who built the cell
which once contained the heart
of the two
who joined to create one life?
How many bricks it took
and how heart's trembling shook
the walls,
until they came tumbling down.

Was there some Great Plan,
is it all in larger hands?
how can this
serve the Light now?
Pain from far away,
and from long ago,
pain built this prison,
while we watched in disbelief.

Chorus:
But little souls fly free,
no matter how the weight
of the world
tries
to keep them tethered to earth.
And little souls dream,
no matter how things seem
so dark before the light begins to shine.
Little souls know,
because they are so close
to the place we all come from.
Little souls will, always reach their sky,
because--little souls fly.

We each might have
stopped this jail's construction,
but now destruction
falls on those we created.
The only way to move ahead,
and to leave this prison bed,
is to hold the light
so little souls don't lose sight,

that though created
within those walls,
it's not from us their freedom falls,
love gives them wings.
If we buy our freedom
with olive branch instead of sword,
sign the treaty, no more war,
peace gives them strength to soar.

Chorus:
Little souls fly
no matter how the weight
of the world
tries
to keep them tethered to earth.
And little souls dream
no matter how things seem
so dark before the light shines.
Little souls know
because they are so close
to the place we all come from.
Little souls will, always reach their sky
because----little souls fly.

Ocean's Calling (a poem)

It is so beautiful and amazing to be seen. This poem was written by a new friend. Thank you, David, for this gift.

Ocean's Calling

On a beach of the virtual sea
I sang of the longing in my heart,
for the friendship and love
of a companion to unravel and revel
in the mysteries of this life.
I sat in the shallows as the echoes
of my earnest supplication faded,
the waves lapping at my feet
in promissory consolation.

From the depths of the virtual sea
her liquid voice rose up to me
and I listened in stunned disbelief
to her captivating, lyrical song,
wavering dream-like, as if it came
from lost Atlantis herself.
And as the last notes faded,
her melody played on in my heart.

I gazed into the virtual sea
and saw the dichotomy of her being,
two goddesses in one glorious incarnation:
Athena, defending those in need
with strength and erudite wisdom,
and Aphrodite, born of the sea,
love and beauty personified.
I am set adrift, mesmerized,

as the turquoise tide carries me away.

I am borne into the virtual sea
to where Beauty shimmers.
Is she real, or a heavenly
reflection in this undulating mirror,
poised to flee from those
who dare disturb her visage?
Will my touch meet the one
Fate has destined for me,
or dispel the illusion
of this bitter-sweet dream?

Compelled to know,
I extend my hand ...

The Length and Breadth of Sorrow

The length and breadth of sorrow reflects the depth of love. The grieving would be less, if the love had been less, or perhaps if the attachment had been of a shallow sort. The trick in this life, the best trick, is to love deeply and to love big, without getting stuck. Good luck with that one. (If you know anything about astrology, I can shorthand this for you with one phrase: I'm a Cancer. So now you know the way I love.)

It is of some comfort to label the painful emotions by their names and attempt to let them pass like clouds on a windy day . . .oh, but when one's wind ceases and doldrums remain for weeks, or months, or longer, what then? When the clouds just sit there, taunting, raining and raining, teasing with spells of dry weather, then pouring rain on one's parade again and again, what then?

The answer, my friends, is not blowin' in the wind. (There isn't any wind, remember?) The answer is: I don't know. All I know is: it still hurts.

There was another poem read at the meditation retreat yesterday, and I laughed at it. I laughed at its TRUTH, shouting at me. Though it needn't have shouted, it was helpful to hear, and I didn't mind the volume. If it hadn't shouted, perhaps I wouldn't have listened. If only listening would ease the pain . . .

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest-house.

Every morning a new arrival,

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you

out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~Rumi

I Tasted a Cloud (a poem)

Today I received
a most amazing gift.
I tasted a cloud in my vegetable soup.
The cloud, which made the rain,
which fell on the rich brown fields,
which watered the seeds,
which became the meal,
I brought to my lips today.

Today I received
a most amazing gift.
I tasted the sun in my bread.
The sun, which shone brightly
onto the rich brown fields,
which warmed the seeds,
which became the manna,
I fed to my body today.

Today I received,
a most amazing gift.
I tasted the tears in my food.
The tears, which fell poignantly
onto the rich brown fields,
and joined rivers of sorrow over time,
and flowed into the ocean,
in which I washed myself today.

Today I received
a most amazing gift.
I tasted the joy in my repast.
Joy, which burst through the sadness,
drying the rich brown fields,
balancing the sorrow over time,
that living things could grow,
and nourish at this blessed table.

Beautiful gifts from other voices . . .(poems)

I don't usually post the work of others here, as this is primarily a place for my own heart to overflow and spill onto the screen. Today I attended a meditation retreat, and these two poems were read. They were such gifts, that I want to share them here . . .

Tripping Over Joy

What is the difference
Between your experience of Existence
And that of a saint?
The saint knows
That the spiritual path
Is a sublime chess game with God
And that the Beloved
Has just made such a Fantastic Move
That the saint is now continually
Tripping over Joy
And bursting out in Laughter
And saying, “I Surrender!”
Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think
You have a thousand serious moves.

~Hafiz


Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.

~Naomi Shihab Nye

The Sprouting Heart (a poem)

At the end of the halcyon days,
came spring,
came spring.
The moon, though beautiful,
set at last,
and the sun warmed my earth.

The small and fragile seed
planted itself,
planted itself.
The weeds, though persistent,
and also beautiful,
yielded to a fresh and hopeful green.

And finally it was heard,
the Truth,
the Truth.
The heart, though watery,
whispered, hushed,
"I just want to Be, myself."

The Heart Knows (a poem)

When, my love,
does the heart know?
When it freezes drops of water
into ladybug-sized diamonds on diminutive branches?

When does the heart know?
When it laughs into the 'morrow,
when it laughs into darkness,
when it smiles on another burst of light?

The heart knows when to run,
and as the web of us was woven
you vanished in mid-spin,
weaving a life of alone.

When does the heart know?
When it cowers at the thought
of the chance to fly,
fearful it could never soar with grace?

Where is my poem?

The day you said you had to go,
we stood at my door and looked into eyes,
which had been windows to god,
in bed and out, for many months.

Our elixir, incapable of ingestion by many,
open-eyed prayer of intimacy created together,
shared with joy and peace.
I let you see, I opened.

From behind your strong walls,
I heard your words,
and through your smile and kind eyes,
"I can't wait to write a poem for you."

Words that didn't come
when we were lovers,
still haven't,
and I suppose they never will.

I Don't Know About That (a song)

All I know right now,
is crazy as it seems, somehow,
I found you in an ocean of words.
I like the way you say my name,
and the way you frame-
simple thoughts into paintings.

Maybe there's a sunrise here,
if I chase away the fear,
of opening to this light again.
And maybe there's nothing there,
but did you laugh, I could swear-
a flash of recognition.

I've heard what you've said,
and falling into bed with you,
would be so easy now-
but caution is a friend,
and as I begin again
I can't say where this goes.

Make the choice to run away
as night spins into day
shut the door before it opens wide
but I don't know about that
yes it would be better
avoid all stormy weather
take shelter while I can-
but I don't know,
I don't know about that.

Whispers on the sea
has love come to find me?
I tried to hide but only so long~
My life of only one,
had really just begun,
should I release my hold and let go?

Maybe there's a chance,
to start another dance,
with new music, I've never heard before~
Balancing is hard,
maybe I won't fall too far-
is that a net you're holding?

I hear what you're saying,
the games we won't be playing,
this could be so easy now-
but I don't know about that
caution is a friend,
as I begin again,
if she who hesitates is lost
I won't stop to count the cost
But I don't know,
I don't know about that.