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I’m Sorry
I’m Sorry
I’m sorry for
ever having doubted you.
I’m sorry for not
sitting with you long enough
because ‘everything’ else
seemed more important.
I’m sorry for saying “Yes”
when I really meant “No”
because I was worried
I would not be accepted.
I’m sorry for being
so frightened that I did
not act for the ‘good’ of another.
I’m sorry for my silence—
for holding back my voice
rationalizing how I did not want
to hurt anyone
and in reality imprisoned myself.
I’m sorry for seeing only
the giftedness of others
and excusing myself as unworthy
when in truth I ran from the
gifts inside me.
I’m sorry for not recognizing
that true humility is in
lighting the world
not in being modest and keeping
my glow beneath a bushel.
I’m sorry for being
so damn sorry.
I’ve apologized again
and again and you have sent wave after wave
of unneeded
forgiveness.
You splashed me
so deeply with
love I’m soaked—
I’m shivering with
goosebumps.
Another immersion…
I’m dripping
tears of joy
causing the sand
to glitter
and you gently
whisper—
“Now~~~follow me.”
Super Bowl Monday I
Super Bowl Monday I
You read correctly
it is Super Bowl Monday I…
What is she saying?
Yes, you are reading
and thinking, “Where is
this going?”
Imagine…
It is Super Bowl Monday I.
You turn on your T.V.
(if you have a T.V.) and
every station is focused
on this BIG day…
Especially the half-time
event~~~
It is going to be
SPECTACULAR.
Every radio station is
tuned in…
The internet is not
even attempting to sell
anything but this
Super Bowl.
Teams are in locker rooms.
The chalk boards reflect
all the ‘plays’
that will be attempted to be
run…
The clock is now in countdown
mode…
The stadium is packed—
Not one seat is vacant.
Shouts of joy fill
the air
awaiting the victors of
this Super Bowl Monday I.
The whistle blows—
The teams come pouring
in…
The coin is tossed.
Now, one by one
trucks arrive
gathering food, clothing
and warm blankets for those
who live with ‘nothing.’
Everyone is celebrating…
there is so much
abundance—
No one shall be without.
Those who placed bets on
this Super Bowl Monday I
are cashing in and
bringing in more packages
to load into the trucks.
Out they go
each team out into the
highways and byways,
city streets and market places.
Planes are loaded—
set off to remote
villages
to lands that people do not
even realize others live.
Yes—it is half-time.
People are ‘receiving’
packages—
mouths are filled…
people are brought in from the
cold comforted with good
cheer.
More items are coming
and the fans are
going wild.
All the ‘plays’ are
running as had been practiced.
I look up at the
scoreboard…
At the end of the game
the score
Well…it is simple.
It is a win win.
Super Bowl Monday I
Imagine—can you?
Nothingness
Nothingness
My head upon a pillow—
I am still
and ever so silent
listening ONLY to the
hush of wonder.
My mind traces memories
and I recall
their moments
quickly closing their
chapters to rush back
to the ‘nothingness.’
I breathe.
There it is—‘nothing’
and I welcome its
absence.
“Stay, stay,” I cry
as another thought
pushes itself closer
and closer.
I honor the disturbance
welcoming its
inaudible voice with
a polished bow
then whisk it away.
“Nothingness”…you are back!
The moments you were
absent I could not
wait for your return.
This feels like a dance
‘sweet nothingness.”
In our togetherness—
yes, in this hushed womb
of being,
I move without moving.
Yes, my feet do not touch
the floor
only they glaze across
its surface as if we were
skating upon ice.
Union with you, nothingness,
is like being born anew…
sweeter than honey
packed in its comb.
The urgency of the day is
before me
and now I am ready.
I have waltzed in your
emptiness
and licked the last drop
of your essence from
my lips.
Our encounters are
becoming not only moments,
BUT every moment.
‘You Are’—for I am.
Vanished
Vanished
“God, God…”
This, a name
shouted in the
frigid night.
“God” (Perhaps you, too
have called except
by a different name).
God…a word taught
to me from
my youth.
For so long I sought,
waited, longed for
and I cried out all
the more…”God.”
Now, a rush of
blustery wind
sweeps the ‘word’
I desperately seek…
“Come, come” but
instead ‘God’
vanishes like a
feather caught in
the wind.
I, now, fall to my
knees laughing.
Yes, laughing.
I have become
as if drunk—
intoxicated by
this name that has
vanished
for I have discovered
you in every living being.
I am drenched in love
frozen and still warmed
by God’s disappearance.
You have vanished into
“EVERYTHING“…
Even what cannot be
seen~~~ I see.
Are you laughing
with me?
Go out…out
‘into’ the temple
where creation exists.
Catch your breath
call out a name…
Pray it vanishes—
Everything you once
believed.
Now—you are free
only to Love.
Everything Has Its Time
Everything Has Its Time
(Adapted by this writer from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)
For every NEW day
a season begins.
Yesterday shall never be seen and
today heaven lies under the
soles of our feet.
We are birthed into creation
and so we shall die
only to be re-birthed.
Like a seed pushed into the
darkness
we, like shoots rise—
our petals unfold
and then fall back into
the soils of time.
There must never be times
of senseless killings.
Healing the wounds of
yesterday is exhausting enough…
building a reign here, now, is
what we must seek.
For now there are tears
and they are what fill
the pools of eternal springs.
Laughter must always seep
through the broken places
and dancing should flourish
without a worry who is watching.
Stones should be skipped on
a flat bed of glassy water.
Children should count the skips
while adults truly ‘see’ the
castles built beneath the
surface.
Consciousness should guide us
in letting-go—we truly
possess ‘NOTHING’…in this
knowledge there is great gain.
A time to sew is weaving
in the hands truly knowing
how to utilize the needles—
Their voices silent…their actions
clear.
Love must endure…
like the path of a stream
seeking out new inlets.
Anything else must vanish
into the wind—
only love should be spoken
or not a word get past your lips.
Peace and ONLY Peace
leads to FREEDOM.
If war has solved anything
why is there ‘still’
fighting?
Everything happening is
as it should be.
May we be bearers
of transformation.
A Gospel of love—
ignited from the very
first breath.
Exposed
Exposed
The birth of winter
here again.
Her frosty face is everywhere
you glance.
The nakedness of the
season uncovered—
The trees once
adorned with leaves
NOW exposed…
Their trunks held
by the frozen earth
while the branches
click a different song
through winter’s
windy blast.
Winter gives time for
silent reflection
and reveals hidden
truths we have tried
to cover.
Our last attempts…
the fading colors
of autumn.
Truth so visible
still some will NOT
see…
They will cover themselves
by the work of
the poor ‘other’
whose tears now fall
like icicles—
They will not expose
the lies…
They will not take
back the cloak
torn from them.
Instead, they will watch and wait
while those others parade
themselves into
churches
singing Alleluia
and the message
preached from a hollowed soul
still waiting for
‘EMMANUEL.’
The cosmic message of
the Christ…HERE~~~NOW.
A warm blanket of snow
christened by the sun.
The chorus of birds
sings while one snow
flake after another
fills the “spot”
where the quiet angel fell.
Fell~~~ever
more deeply in love
with the winter.
Her wings glistened…
Her lashes glazed.
Exposed, yes—
She cannot be anything
but who she is.
And, she knows
in time
all naked truth
shall be revealed.
And, in the bitterness
of winter’s frosty grip—
silently she
grows ‘becoming’
like in no other season
all she has been fashioned
to become.
Did You Hear the Hoot?
Did You Hear the Hoot?
Dusk moved into
the day’s sky
lit by the sun.
Darkness came creeping into the brisk
frigid night.
The holy word opened.
A message proclaimed…
‘Prepare the Way.’
John’s ‘wild‘ voice…
Urgency spoken as one
by one they came to
the Baptist
submerging themselves
into the River Jordan.
He saw ‘through’ the
self-proclaimed religious
but did not turn them
away—and he asked
for nothing in return
except—METANOIA!
John called for a new way—
to make the path ordained
straight once more.
Struck by the words…
outside my window
a proclamation was sung…
it ‘sounded’ like the voice
of the ‘one’ crying out
in the wilderness.
Yet, this time
it was two owls
in their oneness
serenading all creation.
The stars now twinkled
with glee.
Holy wonder—
The shoot of Jesse
blossoms in this
winter’s night
through the joyous
‘hoot‘ of feathered friends~~~
Nature and all its
creatures
embrace the mystery.
How is it that we as
humans continue
seeking proof?
Stay Awake
Stay Awake
…Advent begins—
they call it a season of
waiting~~~ or AWAITING
what has and is already
‘in‘ the world.
In ‘many’ ways my spirit
takes in ‘all’ the
chaos—
not with the busy-ness of
shopping, gift-giving,
rushing here and there—
BUT, rather in the
unexpected…
‘Seeing’ the
fragility of Life—
…a beautiful
mind losing itself
and holding on
in the aging
journey
…a sturdy
companion NOW
holding on ‘for’
a support to
carry her
mighty trunk
and still she
stands with
GRACE.
My being
‘observes’ while I
try my utmost to comfort,
to care.
Still, in this
waiting, I look without
realizing a ‘preparing’ taking place…
So thief, if you are to come,
you can take anything from the dwelling
of my sturdy shelter, BUT you cannot
take the treasure that dwells in the stillness
of my heart in the HOLY moment(s) of
waiting, wonder and awe.
Silhouette
Silhouette
Yes…there you are.
Hidden within the formless void
an outline of being.
A shadow
perhaps ‘more’ real,
alive, displayed
than when eyes, ears, mouth
and nose revealed.
Open to imagination…
your ‘gaze’ seen by no one.
Expectations vanished.
Illusions removed.
Only You
who you really are—
a perfect self
at One with the whole.
No longer a need to
make it ‘right’ for
others…we are all called to find our way.
Your stage is the center which
belongs to everyone…
not only to the lonely others
who believe the world twirls
solely around them.
Nameless silhouette
you are every
I AM.
Forgiven
Forgiven
Can you forgive me at last?
Can you move beyond all the ‘pasts’?
Can you ‘see’ how much it has held you
back…holding on
to what is not yours?
Pick up that mirror—
look into those eyes…
that is whom you must forgive.
Go ahead break the glass.
Now look into every shattered piece.
It is You…whole
It is You…alive—
a prayer answered.
You are forgiven—
you always have been.
Bliss
Bliss
Sweet ‘Whisperer’
the One who lulls me
from my sleep—
Each day
you sprinkle stardust
upon my brow
awakening my gentle soul
to get up~~~
“Come, come~~~you say”
let us take our leave
while the night sky is still
young. No one will ‘see’ us…
it is only you and I.
Let us spend some moments
together in silence.
Take my hand ‘already’
within your reach~~~our palms united.
We shall skip to the rhythm
of the cicadas’ song
and dance while the screech owl
howls to the moon.
We’ll try counting the celestial
wonders one by one till we fall
backwards into a bed of leaves
laughing as if drunk
with the sweetest of wines—
AND
when the first sign of a new day
begins to waken the ones ready
to make their way to work,
we’ll escape
as if we never were here—
From a distance we’ll see one passer-by
getting into the car
a cup of coffee in hand—
an IPad in the other.
We’ll see another
running to get to the
office on time—
cellphone connected to the ear.
We’ll hear the clock ticking,
horns honking, sirens
bellowing…
a ‘shot‘ in the not so
distant-distance
AND
we’ll remember
our silent ‘gathering’
only hours ago.
Then we’ll
HEAR the voices, the
sounds of ‘our’ children
and
wonder
how to bring
them “back” into
this prayerful
BLISS.
One Last Splash
One Last Splash
The sea—
an enormous sheet of glass.
Its ‘silent’ movement
rocked the group
plunged in as if for
one final hurrah.
There they were
like the Rockets…
one after the other ready to
step, kick, glide and then
swoon.
Their attire—
endless colors
and the hues melted
within the waxy waters.
I was ready…
eager.
I, too, wanted to set sail~~~
one last splash
before FALL would welcome
the winter.
Then…
each one began to call,
‘Pick me, pick me, oh please
pick me…’
Rising to the surface,
I went down.
We ‘met’
a first time
yet, a first of many.
We danced
like there was no
tomorrow—
and, the tide
lured us home.
