Drops of Color/ Solitary

Drops of Color

Solitary

The sea is
relatively calm—
white caps were making
their way before the
horizon’s line.

A solitary boat
rested along the edge
of the rising tide.

Stepping into the boat,
I cast off,
thrusting the oars
over the edge.

The winds rose
as did the vessel.

Carried into uncharted waters,
I reached, but there was
nothing to hold.

I let-go.
How do you let-go of nothing?

I heard a splash,
then another.
Dolphins were gliding alongside
this wooden boat.

A seagull landed
on the bow.
It let-go of the wind
long enough to hold
this present place.

Where am I?
This place?
Where are the waves
carrying me?

The sun has set.
The only visible direction
—an ocean of stars.

The rocking
has cradled me enough
that I closed my eyes.
Did I sleep?

The moon rises
from hid-den galaxies.

I am not alone.
Invisible oars lap the water.

I am destined for
the Unknown.

I know you’ll greet
me when I arrive.

Whom am I kidding?
You are the Vessel
I AM within.

See the faces…

See the faces…

Today.

I am praying.
(call it Meditation, Tonglen or Contemplation)

Not for me.

Not for you.

I am whispering into
the Universe
for our World 
gone asunder.

I cry out,
“What is Truth?”
“Where is Justice?”

See the faces of
innocent tiny eyes,
fragile minds
listening to adults—

listening, observing adults!

Grown-ups,
unable to communicate
without hurling 
words children are taught
not to repeat.

My prayer is for them—
‘our little ones’
that they understand
we make mistakes,
yet we get up and 
try again.

We forgive, we turn the other cheek.
(We do NOT inflict harm—we extend kindness at ALL costs)
We stand beside each other so that everyone can be fed.
—Fed with meals curbing hunger
—Given clothing so no one is left naked or cold
and shelter for those who do not even know
the meaning of the Dow Jones. 

This is a simple prayer,
I know,
filled with hope
while I still
sit beside woe.

Sometimes, I wonder,
Have you heard a single word?

Then I grow quiet,
no longer a word to utter.

I know you are here.
I need not worry about
tomorrow.
Yesterday has passed.

I will sit a while longer…

Prayer truly never ends.

Drops of Color/ Seven Hanging Pots…

I share this poem through tears…

My eyes swollen, I can barely read my own words…

NOW…
—Let us maintain kindness
—No matter how broken
     may we act peacefully
—May LOVE transform
     what at present remains unseen!

May we ‘see’ beyond the chaos all that is GOOD!

Drops of Color
Seven Hanging Pots
(In the Beginning)

Seven pots hung upon a 
wall beneath a window
hid-den behind a pair of shutters.

The sun was shining.
The first pot began unfolding its petals
and a voice was heard just inside the shutters
—“This is GOOD.”

Suddenly, an enormous cloud strolled across
the sky shading the light.
The second pot said, “I feel drops of water”
and the same voice whispered
—“This is GOOD.”

The third pot could barely hold back its refrain…
“my soil is so rich & fertile, look, look, see
all my seeds coming to fruition.”
The voice chimed in, “this IS all so very Good.”

The fourth pot shared with the others
an epiphany, “we are growing, changing.
At night, we seem to close.  During the day
we are so fresh and vibrant.  We have hung
here for some time and look what we have
weathered and continue to become.”
The voice said, “Ah, yes…very Good.”

The fifth pot giggled as little birds
and insects played in its gentle space.
The sixth pot noticed creatures
on the street below
and laughed along with the fifth pot
as the voice again softly uttered,
‘This is Good.’

Then, the seventh pot called
for silence.
The shutters opened.
A man and woman appeared in the window.
They gazed out at the lovely pots.
“We promise to tend to you.
Thank you for sharing your splendor
and beauty with all.”

The voice, like a song said,
“Alleluia, this is Good”
and took time to rest.

Satisfied

Satisfied

The time—
the hour…I know not.
Yet, it was as if a 
symbol clanged
and a host of drops gathered
from a Source
wider than the sea.
Into the skies they soared—
higher and higher
they climbed
until they were out of sight.

Silence ‘broke.’
With a rush,
the sound of stampeding horses could be heard
across a barren desert.

Hoof beats showered downward.
There was no rhythm—
but a melody.
A harmony was heard that could not
be transcribed.

Notes fell splattering
the surface.
Every drip, each drop
crescendo
into pools of sweet sounding
echoes
playing on, and on, and on.

Standing in this musical,
I cupped my hands
as they filled with water.
I drenched myself
refilling the cup
to drench myself again.

Then, I stepped out
as if in the center of 
the stage.

I was deluged
until not a speckle of
me remained dry.

A thirst rose in me
“Fill me more,
Fill me more…
so that I can bring it to others.”

—Satisfied—

I splashed these words for you…
hoping you are soaked in wonder.