Time to unlock

What is it then,
that keeps us stiff and separate,
that chains us to opposing views
while watching warily
for some offense?
Who forged those chains?
Did not some heroic voice
already come to set us free;to hand us each the key?
Why do we not
unlock our differences
and learn to sit together
on this bench of love?

Extraordinary Measures

When I think
of the extraordinary contraptions
people have devised
to carry water across
these dry and barren lands
I wonder how it is we cannot see
that Love, too, can sometimes require
extraordinary measures
to reach its serpentine embrace
across the Great Divides
we all too carefully construct
between ourselves and those whose lives
are closely bound with ours.

In fear and wonder

How can there be any safety
here or anywhere
when trees can grow to such heights
from such hard stone;
when water can find its way
through rock to pour,
when cold can stop the water in its tracks
and turn to ice;
when man can carve through cliffs
to build a road so straight and true?
Of course it is unsafe to pass this by
and give no thought to wonder;


unsafe, as well, to stop
and lose oneself,
to falter on the path and fail to move:
we must do both; do all;
must notice, breathe the power of it all,
breathe out again and thus propel
the move to ongoing discovery;
more wonder, fear, and joyous exultation.

Spiritual refreshment

She waits upon this rock
with wing outstretched
and patient eyes
for each child to return
and find its wings again.
A respite from the storms
and all the wars we fight
that separate us
from our true selves
and our strength,
she holds us tenderly
against that warm and feathered breast;
we feel the heart that beats beneath
in rhythm with our own
and breathe in concert til, restored,
we stretch our feathers, flex,
and soar again.

The fallen ones

The fallen ones
have always offered
intriguing subjects
for discriminating viewers:
what can we learn
from watching their mistakes
except, perhaps, to realize
that all life is
identically vulnerable
to sudden shifts
of wind, of tide, of ground,
and so the one who stands so tall today
might easily be found tomorrow
gasping on his side, bedraggled,
begging one small
insignificant passing duck
for a lift...

Sweet indentations

Whose footprints are these,
inscribed upon this rock?
What cosmic puppy frolicked here;
what heavy-footed beasts
stalked through in search of prey,
or chasing rainbows on a summer's day?
Like some affectionate cat
salt water, that elixir
that feeds our cells and souls,
has licked relentlessly,
its sandy tongue
lapping up itself;
has left
these hollowed/hallowed imprints
on our souls: sweet indentations
waiting to be filled again
with Love.

Precious in your hand

Walking your beach
which seems so lonely to me now
I stop to rest,
clambering up a small stone cliff
to sit and stare across the still teal sea.
My eyes are drawn
to this time-softened stone,
and in it now I see your palm
outstretched, and creased
with age and tenderness
holding forth as if you were a chld
a small gathering of nondescript pebbles
as if to say
See? Every single ordinary thing
is precious in my hands!