Blessing that which watches

While there is that within us
which blesses all it sees,
another unseen watcher
stands behind a darkened window,
suspicious and condemning,
hoping for the worst
and longing for disaster
to befall the ones who dare disrupt
the even tenor of our plans and dreams.

To whom do we listen?
To this bright, sunlit God,
hand raised in loving greeting
to each event and person
that passes by
these flesh-colored walls?
Perhaps its time to turn his face around
and bless the caged and hungry one
who watches from within
and yearns for that blessing
only You can share...


* * *

Eleanor's bottles

Reflections in a bottle;
visions in a jar.
Mementos of a neighbor,
spotted in her yard.

Is it light
or line
or color
that defines this memory;
the suggestion of her sailboat,
or the arc of apple tree?
In just another moment
what I saw herein is gone --
as is she.

But my camera engraves forever
on the surface of my heart
the suggestion of her presence,
and in the soft blue-greens
I see her smile.


* * *

Longing for the Divine

Some days,
I am that woman in red --
the one in the short short skirt
and ridiculously high boots --
who stands on the dark corner,
deep in town,
desperately flagging You down,
hungry for Your Love.
Some days I'll do most anything
to get You to come in,
to feel Your touch and know your Divine Kiss.
Today I'll post this sign in my grimy window,
hoping that You'll see it, passing by,
and stop to check me out;
to shuffle through my thoughts and acquisitions,
clearing a path of light
into the dark corners of my being;
to pay again that unfathomable ransom,
then tuck me under Your wing,
and carry me back home
to Oneness.


* * *

Capturing the ghost of experience

Having seen what I loved;
having loved what I saw --
does that then mean
I need to somehow
capture, or share?
To shoot,
or not to shoot;
to keep or toss
an image reminiscent
of a perfect morning
or a joyful friendship --
all these questions must be asked
if the work is ever to be more
than just a simple acquisition:
Been there, done that, took the photo...
And if you asked, "What did you really see?"
What would I say?
How can we separate
what is known from what is seen?
And is it true -- what O'Donohue says --
That transience makes a ghost of experience?


* * *

Assumptions

This shadow of a faucet,
on a life preserver,
at a dock,
looked like a little robot,
arms outstretched
in an apology.

Perhaps I was projecting,
feeling guilty
for some slight,
for having made assumptions,
when those assumptions
just weren't right.

It's really just a faucet,
isn't it?


* * *

Day's end

At day's end,
when blue skies turn to gold
and water into wine,
the winds of time --
that shaped us as we are --
subside, to leave us
silhouetted in the light,
full of character and resistance,
grace and power;
black matches flame
and ignite the landscape,
giving shape and form
to younger visions
of a future yet to come.


* * *

Dreaming

Walking alone,
by the sea,
heedless of majestic rocks
and limitless vistas,
I clutch my walking stick,
brace against the tide,
and dream of you.


* * *