Waiting for change

When the wait for change

Seems to go on forever

It’s easy to lose your head in harsh imaginings 

Of all the possible outcomes 

We’re unable to control;

Harder by far to lean into the present

And stay grounded...

Butterfly

This letting go,
This paring down --
It's surprising, really --
What we're willing to set aside,
The joy of leaving things
(And lives, old definitions of our selves)
Behind in the surge to something new.

Middle-aged men do it (or so we're told)
But here I am, so ready to do the same,
So ready to say no:
I don't, or won't, or can't do that any more:
I'm done chewing through this trap I built myself,
And happy to be on my way,
Not looking back at the old cocoon,
No longer nobody, small and gray,
But new, reborn and flying, finally
Into my own -- and possibly immortal -- skin.

Trust and stay the course

Though the winds of change have filled our sails,

I worry that the light is growing dim

And we’ve still miles to go before

We reach our destination.

When will I learn to trust

That where I am is where I’m meant to be;

To stay the course and revel in

The beauty that is Now?

There will always be light

However entangled our thoughts may become

In the concerns and tribulations of the world,

We need to remember that however dark

Things look, there is always some light.

Bright seas

Through the lacy ruff of trees,

The long white neck of the sea

Gleams bright against 

the dark gown of the clouds,

The shore an onyx necklace at her throat.

And seeing this, who could deny

Her beauty is divine?

As we turn to flame

Watching the dying tulip 

As her petals turn to flame

We feel an echo deep within:

A heart that aches to burn; with luck

That inner light glows brighter as we age,

Consuming muscle, leaving in its place

The luminous incandescence

Of a life well lived.

Grieving

It’s weird to be grieving
The loss of a cat I never liked;
The only cat to whom I ever was allergic;
Who cried incessantly until I picked her up;
Who was only ever happy on my lap...

The scent of her urine (so annoying)
Stayed embedded in her fur,
And my office often reeked of it.
Her constant shedding clogged my keyboard
And gummed up my mouse,
so I confess I was grateful
when the masses in her lungs
(not to mention her arthritis and her asthma,
her irritable bowel and the sores in her mouth)
Grew too significant to be ignored
And we could finally let her go,

And yet...

Something in me is saddened by her loss.
Some part of me is grieving,
Not just guilty,
But regretting that I never loved enough,
And realizing
That all the times I told her that I loved her,
When she rolled onto her back
And demanded that I rub
The soft fur of her belly,
It was true.