The Empty Cross

Standing here, beside the road,

I see home in the distance.

But first I know that I must pass 
that empty cross that links us,   
earth to sky and each to each.

The Allure of the Familiar

At the end of the day,
whatever its adventures,
there is something in me
that longs to return
to the old familiar barn,
to sup at the trough, bed down in the hay
and fall asleep to the gentle sounds
that have ushered me into dreams
for all these many years:
the wind in the trees,
the creaking of the rafters,
the gentle huff of breath
from those who sleep nearby.

Temptation

I am the road
you did not take
because you were not sure
exactly where I'd go
or if you had
the traction you would need
to back out when the going
got too rough.

Yet still,
whenever you drive by,
you look at me and wonder...

No harm in dreaming

Sometimes we cannot help but fantasize
about other people's lifestyles --
I mean,
doesn't this look positively idyllic?

It never hurts to dream --
unless, in dreaming,
we forget how to be present
to the gifts
that are here
and now...

However worn or frayed

I know.
I could have thought, when I saw this,
"Tied Down"
or "Roped in."

But no -- I heard the words
of that old familiar hymn:
"Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in perfect Love
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above."
However worn or frayed the knots,
I don't see marriage
as being tied down;
more a fellowship of kindred minds,
a kind of fore-taste of heaven...

If we walked on water

What if we spent our days,
not dwelling on imagined slights
or others' failings, but our own
as if they were reflections,
following us like shadows?
If we always walked on water,
we could, at any time, look down
and see, reflected there,
(a little wobbly, but enlarged)
the snarl, or the indifference,
the eye-roll, or the subtle sleight-of-hand
that accompanies each assertion
of superiority.
Perhaps we would then also see
the ripples of joy (how far they spread)
when we reach out in trust, or love, or hope...

Taking off again

I want so much
to stay connected;
I do so love those times
when I am happily paddling
in the deep serene.

But here it comes again --
some chance remark,
some writing on a page,
and now,
fluttering its angry wings,
the ego once again takes flight
to conduct its determined battles
in a dark embittered sky.

The devil in the undertow

I know it well,
and so, I suspect, do you:
that dramatic thrill, that surge of power,
the waves of righteous indignation
that swell and threaten to engulf
when we know that we are right
and they are wrong.
Wake up! Don't get sucked in.
(The undertow
can be the very devil --
whatever you fight you strengthen;
whatever you resist persists.)
Step away from the rush;
run back to shore.
Listen beneath the waves
and find the common ground
that unites us both.

Always You

How like a labyrinth,
this path we walk,
with all its twists and turns:
the times we head toward you,
the times we turn away
in shame, or in distaste
for all the evil that men do
in your name,
and still we walk
and as time passes,
we find ourselves
now facing you again...
When will we learn,
whatever steps we take,
what waits for us --
the center, the root, the end --
will always be you.

The Web of Being

Look on this,

the One Great Web of Being,

and know how deeply you and I are connected,

how delicate and flexible the bonds,

how barely visible the threads 

that link us, each to each.

Floating on a common sea

We are all boats,
floating on the common sea
of love: different sizes,
shapes and colors,
but all sharing a common purpose,
all tied to the same dock.

Why point accusing fingers?
Too tall, too old,
too dirty, too plastic, too orange --
and why be vain about position?
Can't we just enjoy
this one shared moment
of serenity?
Because, you know,
the waves will rise again...