An adversarial relationship ...

Granpappy always said
she should learn to shoot a pistol
though he never shot a living thing himself,
and never meant
for her to go off
half-cocked,
ready for action,
primed for battle
whenever she heard
those fatal words:
"You should"
-- or worse yet,
"Ya shoulda" --
as if she'd ever had
any choice in the matter --
that trigger got pulled
the minute she was born.


* * *

And then there are those other times...

And then there are those other times,
when the ferries are on time,
their destinations sure and strong,
and I, in stubbornness,
set out alone,
take foolish risks
because I'm so determined
my path and direction
are RIGHT and SEPARATE,
and maybe even BETTER
than the rest of the crowd.
It could be good --
who knows where it might take me --
but the fact of the matter is
-- well, isn't it obvious? --
there's safety in numbers.


* * *

Oh what a time it was

Time was,
she used to water them;
it was the best of times, then,
if not for her,
then for him...
for her it may have been
the worst of times,
staggering up from her wheelchair,
turban covering the radiation burns,
still trying to care for
all the neglected things
for which he had no heart
including, she feared,
herself.


* * *

A closer look required

This twisted mass of misconceptions:
is it root?
or is it tree?
Is it something that feeds me,
that stretches through
the ground of being
and gathers up the nutrients
that keep the tortured ego flourishing;
something I need
to keep battering my soul against to grow?
Or could it be
that these are simply branches,
foolish digressions from my core;
thoughts I could lop off,
prune with impunity?
I guess I'll have to take a closer look!
Ah: No surprise --
it seems to be out of focus...


* * *

The scent of light

Not one,
but all
the colors please;
not one,
but all
the shapes unfold:
opening,
blooming,
and sharing the scent
of color,
of love,
and of light.






* * *

What to prune?

The problem is,
it's not all black and white --
these choices we make,
what to keep,
what to throw away,
and where to put what's left
when all that work's been done.

There's clutter everywhere,
and lots of gray,
and much as I would like to sit
protected from the rain of "stuff"
and wait for some Divine bus
to take me somewhere else
that's tidy and clean,
the fact is: this is where I live
and this is where I am right now,
smack in the middle of disorder and confusion.
and so I have to ask myself:
Hmm. What to prune?
What to prune?


* * *

Welcoming the Now

You've risen now,
but I'm asleep,
still dozing in my chair
while all around me
life is stirring,
springing into being.
Wake up!
Wake up, the seagull cries,
welcoming the now.
The day is new,
the water still,
the reflections clear.
Wake up!
Take notice!
Sing!


* * *