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Why Walk

Why Walk

Once upon a time
my feet touched the ground
running like a gazelle
upon a smooth sheet
of star-lit waters.

This is no fairy-tale—
a part of me ‘broke’…
The break in the pavement
nowhere near the
enormity of what
was dis-lodged
in my inability to step.

A new flow
‘sprung’ in me
—a new rhythm
—tempo
—beat
My spirit unleashed.

I ran—
this time on paper.
I filled the pages with
images, persons
mystical, mythical~~~ALIVE.

I shared them
visually and through story-telling.

I regained my steps…
I discovered a new balance
or was it a lost balance
re-found.

Anyhow~~~
In all the unknown
I sat beside persons
preparing for beyond.

I had been doing this a life-time
it seems—
but, now those persons
were kin to me.

I was not the ‘professional’
coming in to assist the 
grappling, the acceptance, the ______________.

I walked, and walked
tumbling, looking into the eyes
of these persons
who now live
each day
in front of me, out of reach
yet, at moments, beside me
as I inhale their delicate
scent.

I walk
because their faces
are the maps
that guide my steps

and sometimes I 
go off alone
walking
to see

YOUR face
inside
of me.
“The eye through which I see God is
the same eye through which God
sees me; my eye and God’s eye are
one eye, one seeing, one knowing,
one love.”

~~~Meister Ekhart~~~

Sketch of Myself/ Jewel

Sketch of Myself
Jewel

The Real “Jewel”
is not adorned around your neck.
The rarest gem is beating
‘inside’
and no ‘price tag’ could label
the value of YOU.

Time

Time

The seconds, minutes, hours
and in between

the breath…

The years pass-on—
yet, the ‘gasp’
unmeasured.

The ‘un-marked’ time…

The unknown
place called Home.

Sketch of Myself/Table-Set

Sketch of Myself
Table-Set…Everyone Invited

Inspired by Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself”

Winnowed Away…

Winnowed Away…

Held by
‘nothingness.’

The absence
of what was 
finds space…
in this emptiness.

A treasure
found~ beyond rubies, sapphires & diamonds.

Lying
there a life-time

the rubble removed.

The debris
now scattered~~~
winnowed away.

What lies
in this NOW

Visible…

No longer 
needing to be named

except

I AM

Sketch of Myself/ Let a book ‘pic’ you…

Sketch of Myself
Let a book ‘pic’ you…

Discover the shelf
holding the treasure
waiting for you…

What will the pages say to you?
Allow the story to come alive.
Take a role of ANY character
or become each subject.

Can you relate to the message?
Can you fill in unwritten lines
magically giving life to a story of
your own?

When you have reached the last page
and closed the cover,

rush back to the shelf
and begin again.

A book waits to ‘pic’ you.

Inspired by Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself”

Play-On

Play-On

No matter
how I run
or pause

You are there
waiting

Always quiet,
peaceful

Especially when
my mind adrift.

You sit beside the
shore

Every vessel carrying
each ‘thought’
floats on by.

You do not 
pull any of my ‘wanderings’
to the water’s edge.

You patiently
curl yourself
like a kitten
cradled in a blanket…
I almost hear your purrrr.

You leave room—
an empty space…
I settle at your side.

You laugh
as I pull myself
‘upright.’

AGAIN—

A song is being
played.

Perhaps, it is 
a first time
I hear it spilling

Notes after notes.

It is beautiful really…

and the Rest

I have discovered
so gently—

It has given me the 
JOY to play-on.

Sketch of Myself/ A Dab of Color

Sketch of Myself
A Dab of COLOR

Inspired by Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself”

The Buck

The Buck

The night young.
The moon wrapped 
in black drapery.
It would be hours
before the curtains pulled
wide ushering in the dawn.

A soft wind
nipped my frosted face.
Stepping, I listened to
the soft echoes of silence.

In my pocket two
small apples…
I would place them where my
forest friends would nibble
on their succulent juices.

Suddenly, the quiet hush was
shattered…
 a loud ‘strike’ and then
cries…I heard the hoof beats
pounding the pavement.

I knew
I ran, limping—crying!

The car stopped.
A small man stepped out—
phone to his ear, he pleaded.
“Come quickly, the deer jumped in
front of my car…come quickly
it’s in pain.”

I knelt beside the creature—
he wanted to get up with such
urgency but the hip was
severely broken.

He let me touch his soft head,
its delicate ears,
his long nose…his new antlers
just breaking through.
I spoke as if he knew my
every word.

The ‘gentle’-man knelt beside me.
He placed his hand on the buck’s
brow and said, “I’m sorry.”
The moment shall NEVER leave me…
The buck held the man’s gaze—
it was the most tender sight I
ever beheld…
The creature, solemn & calm yet in
horrific pain seemed to embody…
“You are forgiven.”

An officer arrived…
We moved the buck
as tenderly as we could to the
frozen bed of green grass…
I knew what was coming.

I stayed holding a “hoof.”
The shot fired—
I felt it go through my ‘hide.’
He clung for life.
A second shot—
his breath stopped.

I wept.

I would walk
soaked in my own tears—
my heart ached.
I could hear the cries of the
young deer in the forest.

The next morning
the moon was full—
I walked to the tomb.

Before I arrived,
a solitary buck rustled from
the brush…
he walked with a slight limp—

No, no it couldn’t be!

Then again…
everything dies
and finds a way to RISE again.

Sketch of Myself/ Docked

Sketch of Myself

“Docked”

Inspired by Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself”

The Face


The Face

In the eye
of the majestic hawk
intertwined in the branch’s steeple…

In the delicate pines
a herd of deer—
we hold each other’s stare

and I am beholden
to the face of God.

In the faces
of each life
the image of You
speaks to me
like a hushed breath.

I bow in prayer—
the ground beneath my feet casts your pupils
in the soil.

Amen

Sketch of Myself/ “Sit right back & you’ll hear a tale…”

Sketch of Myself

“Sit right back & you’ll hear a tale…”

Inspired by Walt Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself”