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A Dark Night of a Soul

A Dark Night of a Soul

The water cool
splashing at the ankles.

The helm held
for the time being.
It is that which the soul grasps.

There are no controls—
no way to steer the vessel.

Direction is irrelevant
all earthly North—lost.

Yet, from this point
the one aboard the living cocoon
sways with the ebb and flow.

In the darkness, one hears the wind.

The moment quickens
water soaking the soul…
hands grip ‘no-thing’
yet there is a sense of holding onto Life.

From THIS center, all life
encompassed—

The winds cease…
wobbling now to maintain balance.

Which easier
to stand as the wind wrestles,
tossing in the unseeing

OR

stopped as if frozen
held in place?

The soul rocks simply to stay afloat.

A light streaks across the black
canvas.
A roar heard in the not so distant
distance

the sound~~~a hundred hoof beats
stampeding in every hidden corner.

Hurled from the cocoon,
the soul bursts
the remains of the vessel submerged.

The soul—in a shattering
moment…a taste of freedom
elicits a sense of fear and wonder.

Nothing to hold/no longer held
—a gulp of water swallowed unintentionally.

The soul is alive.

Life is holding the soul
and the being realizes it
never had to ‘grasp’…
never had the soul
had to hold on

to any-THING.

The deep sea churns—
the soul drifts
and takes moments to tread water.

A deep breath in
the soul plunges and from the
port of the ‘being’ an
exhale expands as the
surface broken.

The darkness reveals a newness—
SEEING so many others
NOW floating alongside—free.
The soul is not alone.

The stars appear from galaxies
far away~~~
they, too, alive in the dark.

Ahead—the soul makes
out a landscape~~~
shadows of mountains,
arms of swaying branches.

One hand curls over into
the water, the other hand
follows the rhythmic motion.

When the soul reaches the island,
the arrival only marks the
beginning of the journey

the dark night of a soul
sails on and beyond.

Sketch of Myself/ There is COLOR

Sketch of Myself
                                    There is COLOR even on cloudy days…”

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

The Ground

The Ground

The ground took me—
holding me by surprise.

I crawled upon the soft
mattress of its wet grasses.

My nails dug deep into its
cold dark soils—
muddy, unclean.
I felt alive.

Sparrows twirled
around my head
whispering love chirps.
Bees soaked the pollen
from the dandelions’ dander which
caked to my knees.

Passion rose inside me.
I rolled down a hill
holding onto every slivered blade of grass
laughing so loudly the
trees began clapping their branches.

Enveloped in the earth’s
crust,I was the golden nugget
unpolished.
I was the diamond needing not
to be cut.
Already, I was the ring
at one with the gem.

Darkness came.
I had no idea how or
when dusk slipped by.

Crawling all day,
I allowed myself to bed down.

Closing my eyes, I dreamed the stars
had rained down covering
me with a blanket of galaxies.

When I woke,
I rubbed the crusted
sparkles from my lashes.

Believing my dreams,
I lifted the LIGHT
drawing back the
‘comforter.’

A smile painted my
face…I knew
from whence
I came.

Sketch of Myself/Can you spare…

Sketch of Myself
                                            “Can you spare a cracker or two”

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

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ The Final Day IN this Guest House

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ The Final Day IN this Guest House
September 18th, 2018
Remembered

Beneath the shallow
depths,
the hearts of men
lie.

On the surface,
black tears
stain the rippling
waters.

A faint heart beat
can be heard
in the deep
fathoms.

It is not a mystery—
it is the ache of
war.

—War that ends life
—War that destroys
creation’s splendors
—We ‘all’ die
when weaponry is
hurled in a manic way
attempting to destroy life.

The graves
tho not dug—
reminders of a history
never to be erased

AND

a history
we must prepare
NEVER to happen again.
We must
allow a seed inside                                               
ourselves to
die and lie
dormant long enough

to blossom.

When we ourselves
allow this transformation
a relational dance
follows…
Most often unnoticed.

Dance now upon the waves…
hold these men of war.

They never saw what was
coming
and even if they did
there was nowhere to run
or hide.

We remember—
how we ‘ALL’ lose in battle…
Both sides.

Open our eyes—
please
at least wide enough
to recognize
we are the same side
of a circular coin…

Look…
one day you may be ‘heads-up’
the next ‘tails-down.’

No matter how many
times you flip the coin
it still is…

One solitary coin.

Treasures lie
in the lives taken needlessly.

Pray—
the ‘Pearls’ below speak…

“NEVER let this happen again.”
Dedicated to those who lost their lives in Pearl Harbor and to the living, especially our children, who will ALWAYS remember.

Sketch of Myself/ LISTEN

Sketch of Myself/ Listen
                                             “Let the ‘strings’ write the words.”

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

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ Day 12

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ Day 12
September 15th, 2018


Class began…

It started before I arrived.

I did not have to go to
admissions to see if there was
room available…

Certainly,
this class was full—
but the depths were limitless.

I melted beneath
the surface
I tried not to make waves
I attempted to discover the flow.

For the longest time
I hovered.
I heard my breath
the snorkel attached to my mask
allowed me to fill my lungs
and release my breath
through an artificial port—

Still…
I heard the vibrations
of what came out of me
and especially what filled me.

Rays of sunlight
warmed the living coral bed—
Yellow fish
Black fish
Fish of numerous colors
swam by in perpetual motion.

Each fish ‘sailing’ its uncharted
path and moved as the current
carried them to and fro.

So simple—
fitting in this classroom.

The whistle blew
the class I attended—over.

I have discovered a new art
called, “Diving In.”

It is not frightening once
you trust
and believe in your own flow.

Cast yourself—
don’t allow a hook to keep you
stranded.

Sketch of Myself/Quench Your Thirst

Sketch of Myself/Quench Your Thirst
                                           “When you stop to quench your thirst,
                                         find a moment to discover your reflection~~~
                                                  You’ll NEVER thirst again…”

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

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ Day 11

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ Day 11
September 14th, 2018

David

His name…

David.

His office along side
the sea.

He picked his rock,
his office chair, on this
particular morning.

He brought large palms
pure green.

Before he began to ‘weave,’
—he laid out his ‘good’ book
—a few precious stones
and a tiny vase
holding a single flower.

He placed some crumbled
crackers on the stones
beside him.

One by one they arrived—
first…crabs
and then zebra doves.

They definitely knew Dave
I mean David.
If he did not tend first to his clientèle,
a turbulence more alarming
than the sea began.

David wove ‘hats’—
covers for the hot sun.
His craftsmanship…pure elegance.

His price…whatever you could place in his
empty cup.

David’s business practice
some would say was a tad unethical.
He quoted a few short verses he knew
by heart…yes, from his ‘good’ book.

I did not purchase a cover for my head,
but I left something in the cup.

David put his forehead to mine.
Looking directly into my eyes,
I held his gaze…he held mine.

No verses in this moment…

David said, “A”…exhaling
then continuing the breath after a
silent pause, he went on “LOHA.”

ALOHA

The island greeting…

And…
I think the most beautiful prayer
I ever heard.

I left David’s office.
I glanced back after
walking a few steps.

David waved
as did I.

He went back to his work…

and, while I am writing
this prose
along side the sea,

I’m just beginning to
understand the work
that is mine to do.

David and I understand
office space…

I think I need to leave more
crumbs.

Sketch of Myself/ …ONE and the Same

Sketch of Myself

  “Each pane ‘holds’ its own view and still the picture is ONE and the Same.”

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

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ Day 6

Aloha…A Hawaiian Journal/ Day 6
September 9th, 2018

This Morning’s Gospel
           written by the Sea

The Opening Verse
           carried by a wave
                and quickly pulled under

The Second Verse
         held the wind~~~
               a haunting ‘note’
                splashing the blue ‘reflection’
             from the sky above

The Third Verse
    lifted beams of lights—
rainbows…like boxes of
   crayons melting into the waters

The Forth Verse
     whispered, “I Am Carrying You”

while the 5th & 6th verses
    spoke, “Be Still”

The Seventh Verse closed,
      “The Gospel of the Sea”

a fish leaped…

“Thanks be to ALL”

Sketch of Myself/A NEW Season

Sketch of Myself
                                          “A NEW Season of Becoming”

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