Drops of Color/ Many Shelves

Drops of Color
Many Shelves…

a few items
delicately placed.

In this house,
there are ‘many’
extraordinary shelves.

‘If it were not so,’
this sketch, these words,
would not have been
created or written.

What lies on these shelves
—meant to set a 
table, a dining room
ready for a feast,
and all are welcome.

Everyone who eats
is no longer hungry.

Everyone who is hungry
is welcome & fed.

These shelves,
even when empty
are FULL.

“One thing is becoming increasingly clear to me:
that You cannot help us, that we must help You  
to help ourselves.  And that is all we can manage
these days and also all that really matters: that we
safeguard that little piece of You, God, in ourselves.
And perhaps in others as well.”

                                                         ~~~Etty Hillesum

 

Drops of Color/ 4 Elements

Drops of Color
4 Elements

Earth, Wind, Water and Fire.

In the center of these elements…Love.

A swirling Universal tapestry
begun before any eye ever bore witness.

Fire…unleashed itself in a cosmos
—timeless, always changing,
following a pattern designed,
revolving through seasons, changing the tide
—EVOLUTIONARY.

It ripples
winds lift the lofty steeple
—the grandest cathedral not designed
by humankind.

Waters
baptism—the serenity of ocean depths,
flowing rivers, fluid streams and
ponds evaporating under a Sun
—dazzling a planet.

Earth…surrounded by a cascading
starry array
—a painted milky way
—black holes whose depths
cannot be filled
and have never been explored.

Four elements, and at the center
a heart~~~Beating.

Listen…listen.

You can hear the Divine
breathing in all.

Listen…each breath lives in you!

Drops of Color/ Table for Two

Drops of Color
Table for Two

Reservations made…

The guests were moments away
adorned in ‘garments’ for
the occasion.

Napkins, silverware laced the table tops,
glasses longing for sweet juices
to swirl along their edges.

Chairs held the cobble stones in place.
Standing their ground, expectant
—longing to ‘hold’ the partakers
of the Feast.

The aroma of fresh breads seeped
beneath opened windows.
Drizzled through the streets
—the scents of savory meats
garnished in spices.

Platters of cheeses, multi-colored
vegetables, crisp crackers
—lingered just within the door’s entrance.

They arrived, but unbeknownst…
they’d been followed.
They were spotted because of their dress.
Those who saw, took notice, and ran to
their homes to put on ‘their’ garments.

Was this the time?  Had it arrived?
Would they be welcomed?

The couple arrived…they did not
take their seats.
He rang a bell and did not stop
…the sweet sound of its chime, a song
—all came.

Two lowly Souls, one without a shirt,
the other, no shoes on her feet
—stood at a distance.

The bell stopped…everyone paused.

The couple stepped out…she removed
her shoes
—it was a perfect fit for the woman.

The man removed his jacket
calling out,
‘put your right arm through this hole
—now the same with the left arm.’

They brought the couple to 
a table
—more chairs were brought out
—there was room ‘enough’
for everyone.

The food was lasting
but, no one took a bite,
until after the couple.

New shoes on her feet,
and a jacket that fit him
—they bowed their heads.

Everyone said,
‘Amen’

The time…is now
and forever more.

Drops of Color/ The Night

Drops of Color
The Night

The night is over~~~

the colors have dimmed.

Shadows are dawning~~~
the sun soon shall appear.

Please, trust me when I say,
‘There is no need to fear
the darkness.
If you dare to dwell in
the unseen what appears invisible
begins to reveal itself anew.

Black & white become like
spectrums of color
piercing the unfamiliar
and creating things new.

Whoever has told you to fear
the night, perhaps you
might ask them what
exactly is it that causes them
to hide?

Blow out the candles,
click the light switch
off,

and wait…

Your eyes~~~
they are beginning to see
what you thought was unclear.’

Oh, wondrous night.
You move like a river, your white caps,
are stars,
rolling across a galaxy
studded with darkness
—satin drops
pooling until day
finds its way.

Drops of Color/ A Million Feathers

Drops of Color
A Million Feathers

Fashioned,
like strands of pearls
beside the shore.

Strung on rocks, dainty legs
balancing upon the water.

A million feathers
adorned by sea birds.

Casting bills
into the surf,
engulfing fresh morsels,
invisible delicacies,
snapped up in a blink of an eye.

The softness of feathers
spread wide
embracing the salt air.
Feathers, so dapper
so intricately woven
—offer warmth
—propel flight
—bring solace
as young sleep
beneath a wing’s cover.

A brood of chicks
knows the comfort of Home.

A million feathers
prepare to set off
for a not so distant place.

Return,
some will.
Others will migrate to lasting places.

Feathers left behind.
Traces of loved ones
never truly gone
fly with millions of feathers
not so far away.

Drops of Color/ …the sound of the bell

Drops of Color
…the sound of the bell

Listen
…the sound of the bell.

Wait, the sound of Bells.

The night sky fading—
a sliver of stars
returning to their quiver.

A purple blue softness magnifies
the horizon in the West
and subtle pinks and oranges
—a field of marigolds in the sky
—intermingle and prepare for
the Liturgy already begun.

We have made our way, one by one,
side by side from our straw mangers.

Now, we graze, we chomp and chew,
and stomp toward verdant pastures
—we ring bells.

Bells draped around our necks
—we herald a song
—raising antiphons and psalms.

Lyrics are written by passers-by
who stop, who listen, who genuflect 
at the Glory of Creation.

The sound of the bell
—the service never ends.

Listen…let us go ‘together’ in peace.

Drops of Color/Shining like the sun…

Drops of Color
Shining like the Sun

“It is a glorious destiny to be a 
member of the human race, though
it is a race dedicated to many
absurdities and one which makes
many terrible mistakes; yet, with all
that, [God] gloried in
becoming a member of the human race!
To think that such a commonplace
realization should suddenly seem
like news that one holds the winning
ticket in a cosmic sweepstake.
I have the immense joy of being a
member of a race in which
[God] became incarnate. As if 
the sorrows and stupidities of the
human condition could overwhelm
me, now I realize what we all are.
And if only everybody could realize
this!  But it cannot be explained.
There is no way of telling people that
they are all walking around shining
like the sun.”

~~~Thomas Merton

Drops of Color/ Another Harvest

Drops of Color
Another H
arvest

Here it is,
the ripened red fruit
lets-go.

Falling into the hands
—picked with ease
—plucked from leafy branches
waving fare-well.

The laborers are plenty.
An abundance of bushels
gathered.

The succulence of juicy, delicious
apples waiting to be consumed.

By whom, you ask?

Trucks pull in,
other transport vehicles arrive.
Boats, planes, trains, bicycles,
walkers, runners.

Into the highways and byways they go,
carrying the delicate delights
into small cities, rural neighborhoods,
desert places, enormous bustling cities,
deep into the heart of the bush,
into mansions—tables of plenty,
tables without
—awaiting a ‘core’ of edible arrangements
–satisfying
—mouthwatering

AND

all are fed.

This harvest,
‘imagine’ the field.

Endless persons serve as 
all are fed.

Left overs fill the baskets..

Drops of Color/ Inside the Edge

Drops of Color

(Sketch re-created from an Unknown Artist’s Original)

Inside the Edge

One by one they came,
no sequential order.

Four corners of the Universe
unfolding like stars.

From in between spaces,
unknown, yet collectively,
they were People
walking with a Promise.

Straw once used for bricks
was braided into baskets.

Young, old, leaving their pasts
behind in Search of a Home.

They had little but their worth was
not measured in possessions.

Freedom, an uncharted path
—fruits gathered for the day
trusting tomorrow would take
care of itself.

From an ‘edge’ inside, i view…
from a privileged place i bend on both knees.

i carry, yes, even now, a weighted pack
of my own making.

Still, ‘we,’ One people,
both/AND weaving straw
into baskets
~~~gathering to share
~~~to break bread in as many
pieces as possible
~~~so all can Taste and be fed.

Each distinct color made welcome
~~~a rainbow ignites the sky.

All religions, plunged into a Sea
~~~salt erasing the formality of rules
inviting the ‘vessels’ we are
to sail beside one another.

The wind does not
decide who is or is
not worthy.

Blessings

Blessings

Blessings

overflow.

Drops of Color/ The Artist

Drops of Color
The Artist

The artist began.

A gentle brush stroke.

A dab of water.

Dipping into pools of color…
each a sacrament
—a portrayal
—a sign.

Slowly, the image
becoming clear.

Lifting from the matte,
breathed into life
—created
a living human being.

Trees clapped their branches.

The sky sank, for a moment
beneath the sun,
bowing in reverence.

Birds anointed the easel
with their savory swipe of feathers.

The human looked upon
the Artist

and simply  said,

‘One day, I hope to be like You!’

Flow

Drops of Color
Flow

The earth ‘shaking.’

At the top of a ridge,
a magnanimous display.

Millions of droplets thrust
from an edge.

The direction—
spontaneous.
No time to waste
‘casting lots.’

Speckles of moisture
spew every which way.

Fierce, elegant,
Powerful, grace in full motion.
Tantalizing, soothing,
Life altering, washed away
hidden pools—
tiny creatures bathe.

The sound
deafening
—spill a box of pins,
you will not hear a single
drop.

Nature…
rapid, swift, breathtaking.

A force, always changing,
wondrous to behold—
earth shattering, if you attempt
to defy its way.

Beauty, wonder
witnessed from a distance.

Shoes off—
standing upon ‘holy’ ground…

Drenched by ‘I Am.’

Humbly stepping on…

trusting life’s flow.

Drops of Color/ A Genuine Gaze

Drops of Color
A Genuine Gaze

No words necessary.
Countless couples.
My eyes privileged to behold.

I cherish the moments
—like framed photos.

Love unfolded in
a nod of a head
—flesh touching
—a gentle swipe
—skin to skin
—a glance
—a soft whinny.

Expanding
—love revealing itself
in the ordinary
and most extraordinary
gaze.

How genuine…Love is.

Drops of Color/ Sky’s Landscape

Drops of Color
Sky’s Landscape

The sky,
a ‘land’scape,

splashing its image upon a body
of water.

Clouds weave into the scenery
magnifying the mirrored
scene overhead.

The sky began to laugh,
or was it the wind?
A strong gust rippled the waters
sending onto the shore
a million drops.
The landscape,
carried in tiny beaded pools.

Pausing, I realized
I was soaked.
A thousand drops
dripped from my brow,
my shirt, trousers
saturated.

My boots drenched,
immersed in the sky’scape.’
I began to laugh,
the sky ‘tucked’ within me.

Hovering…each cloud
reflected back
an endless view.

The sky’s landscape.

Drops of Color/ Questions

Drops of Color
Questions

Is there a rainbow
stitched into a waterfall?

Is it a waterfall
illuminated in the cusp
of a rainbow?

How do we live the questions?

Maybe, in the moments
that expand our vision
—we become
the rainbow
—we encompass every drop
of the waterfall.

We understand the questions
need no answers.

Living the questions is
the ‘breath of life’
transforming us

making all things NEW.
‘Seek the wisdom that will untie your knot.
Seek the path that demands your whole being.’
                                                                        ~~~Rumi

Drops of Color/ So Simple

Drops of Color
So Simple

For a moment,
the view, as if

held, entwined
in a frame.

Sheer and utter elegance,
mere words lack the luster
in describing you.

You are an entranceway
—a door of sorts into
a valley
fashioned like the walls of a uterus
inviting the traveler to enter.

Many seeds planted here
—by birds of the air
—animals excrement
—wind and storms.

Nothing is trimmed or hedged,
cut or tilled.

In fact, in this subtle garden,
it is so simple to dwell.

Drops of Color/ Promised Lands


Drops of Color

Promised Lands

One rolled in
upon another.

Straw, the mortar
as an Exodus begun.
The Exile,
a bridge,
exposing a gap
that no longer
would give way to division.

Stone upon stone upon stone,
not a single one ‘thrown.’

Each rock, boulder, pebble
set in place,
like a dinner table prepared
to serve countless guests.

And, so, this bridge
a path
laced in stone.
Both directions.

Promised Lands—
beginning with the One 
stone first
rolling in

~~~A Corner Stone

Drops of Color/ ‘body of creativity’

Drops of Color
‘body of creativity’

A broken branch
—the whittler began to carve.

A variety of paints
—the artist fashioned faces
—expressions of love.

A pattern of material
—the seamstress stitched
outfits.

Extraordinary characters
put in the hands of
those with ‘no-thing’
and, for a first time, they
had a make believe friend
but, was it really make-believe?

In a Quantum Universe,
these creators joined in the collective
‘body of creativity.’

The success story
it took a community
to make a difference.

Not one, not two, but many
are there—YOU are in the midst.

Prayer sometimes disguises itself
in the simplest treasures
a child always remembers.

Drops of Color/ If only these walls could talk…

Drops of Color

If only these walls could talk…

An empty table…
Minutes ago, others stood around…
No chairs were necessary.
In a minute or so, MORE will 
come.  They will stand long enough to 
listen.

Stories, yes, that is what they shall
hear.  It is why they have arrived
here, at this table, before this
wall.

You can see the portraits of persons…
travelers.  They, being displaced,
withstood the test of time.

With courage, with hope, with faith,
they made their way.  Some would not
live, but their stories live—on…

They, the memories, told around this table
—bread broken, shared…
wine tasted and passed to another
to drink—from a simple cup.

They are coming, the next pilgrims,
to gather beside this table, this wall.

They will listen…long enough to understand
the message…”Go forth and serve.”

Yes, even the walls talk.

Drops of Color/ Come ‘play’ me

Drops of Color/ Come ‘play’ me
Come ‘play’ me…

the luring sound of the stringed
mandolin with a robust belly

—casting a spell
like a bee dipping into
the honey jar.

Sweetly, the vibration
of strings
—like melted sugar over
a red juicy apple.

One bite.
One succulent encounter.

Eyes closed—
the exquisite sounds.

Why even the sculpted statues
can be heard…

Come ‘play’ me.

Drops of Color/ Hid-den Saints

Drops of Color
Hid-den Saints…

they’re among us.

Everywhere!

When the sun is at its zenith,
you attempt to stare
into its jetting rays,
but, cannot  for one moment,
capture a glance.

The Saints, they’re in the ‘unseen’ places.

In the deepest,
darkest depths of the sea,
where the reality of  ‘any’ light
appears skewed,
the Hid-den Saints
‘unknown’

yet, present.

Their needs are simple,
and go beyond
any forms of success or 
accolades.

These hid-den saints have a
single purpose:
To manifest Love in all things,
in all circumstances,
in every situation.

I hear one singing right now.
Painting by Artist: Sam Bates aka SMUG

 

Drops of Color/ A Poet

Drops of Color
A Poet

A Poet
meandering along 
a forest path
arrived at the foot of a
wooden Bridge.

The Bridge spoke,
“Poet,
for so long I have waited
for your coming.
Step upon my boards
and write me, Poet.”

The Poet took a step,
followed by another.
Then, with her hands,
she held the smooth timber
allowing her the ability to grasp hold
as higher and higher the Poet rose
landing on the boards
laid just so for crossing.

In the Bridge’s center,
the Poet paused.

Choosing to sit down,
words splintered across the pages,
an ‘image’ took shape.

The Bridge swayed in delight.

Moments passed,
time was no longer understood
—seconds mattered not.

The descending sun lifted the Poet
from her perch, a Bridge.

Putting her tablet and pens aside,
the Poet arrived on the other side.

The Poet bowed,
and quietly whispered
a word of thanks.

The Bridge echoed back,

“Thank you Poet.
You reside in each of my steps…
Cross on.”

Drops of Color/ Edelweiss

Drops of Color
Edelweiss

As soon as the word
spoken~~~ ‘Edelweiss,’
the song begins.

Each petal a note
alive on a suspending scale—
‘do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti do’
lifting the peaks of the mountains
folding back curtains so the
performance begun!

Listen—
the morning greeting birthing
the white flowers lying atop beds of
green leaves

—so soft
—so clean
—so bright

They spread themselves like arms
ready to embrace
—so ‘happy’ to SEE thee.

This dainty pod
laced effortlessly
honor & glory
be given to its luminous design.

How simple it could be to pass it by.

Yet, might we carry its tune—Edelweiss

spreading it throughout the world

so the song be sung.

‘Bless the Earth our homeland’~~~forever.

Thankyou, Edelweiss~~~
may your blossoms become
a chorus that is never-ending.

Drops of Color/ A ‘Sweet’ Bed

Drops of Color
A ‘Sweet’ Bed

Often times
a vessel comes to shore…

fastening itself deep ‘into’ the sands.

The floating phoenix rests its feathers
—flowing sails bed themselves down.

Sometimes ‘repairs’ are made
—a gentle wash from the
salty sea, and endless mollusks
that latch themselves on for a ride.

The sun’s rising and setting
—the view, different from this position.
The cradle of the water’s rock
the boat like a newborn babe
—the ‘trust’
—no matter the tide’s ebb & flow
—carried in darkness & light.

Ashore, the laborer rests.
The nets carrying an abundance
of fishes let-go.

So many arrive in this space
for communion.

Fed on the water’s sumptuous delights
—a banquet.

The tide calls from a 
full moon waning on the waters.

Soon, it is time
once again
to set sail.

The sands—a sweet bed—
each speck
a reprieve
drizzling from the vessel
plunging back into the sea.

Drops of Color/ See it?

Drops of Color

See it?

“Look”…

There in the water!

See it?

Can you see…that?

It is so beautiful
—beyond words.

I am uncertain if I have
ever seen anything
so wondrous.

A timely breeze set in
lapping the water,
creating a crackling sound,
as if, melting over the rocks,

and

I heard
—I listened to the water speaking
—each drop proclaimed,

“Oh, trees,
you have finally discovered
‘Yourself.’

 

Drops of Color/ On my Way…

Drops of Color
On my Way…

said the Pilgrim to the Mountain.

The Summit packed with snowfall
—countless feet in thickness.

Like goose down feathers
stuffed into a pillowcase…
the mountain stands.

The clouds encompassed her in the
early dawn of the day
but, as light rose
—the clouds moved in unison
like dancers whose performance
leaving the stage.

A Pilgrim traversed a narrow path,
at times the direction unclear.

In those moments,
the mountain spoke to the Pilgrim…

‘On my Way’

Together, they were not two
—they were twin peaks

summiting a World
of abundance beyond words.

Drops of Color/ …brougtht to the Bridge

Drops of Color

…brought to the Bridge

Many ‘things’ I have learned
over the years
and, I, brought all those
‘things’ to the bridge
and tossed them over into
the waters below.

And… as i gazed over the edge,
I saw the reflection of
all those ‘things’…
thoughts, beliefs, understandings, etc.

and I moved on
OVER the bridge
thankful and ready

to trust the flow
and the ‘unknown’
lying ahead.

Drops of Color/ A Simple Flower

Drops of Color
A Simple Flower

I picked a single flower
from a meadow laced
with buttercups.

One vibrant yellow flower—
I placed it in a jar
—for you.

I was going to pluck another
and make it two,
but the scope of the jar’s
circumference became the sun.

The beams of light
‘cupped’ the flower.
The buttercup glowed,

and like a sky of endless stars,
it was my gift of Love
for you.

This flower became each
ancestor
who loved you
as I love you.

This flower holds love
on a slender stem.

Can you see
all that IS in
a single flower
I have picked for you?

Drops of Color/ Sculpted Swans

Drops of Color
Sculpted Swans

The night sky
was a sea of black twisting licorice
draped with clouds like crepe paper.

A wrinkle formed, another followed,
and the moon revealed itself
—the light within her
beamed from her hid-den craters.

Below, chiseled swans stood
balanced on a bed of green grasses
—slivers of fine threads
—a dazzling quilt.

When the stage lit
by the moon’s orbiting
—glittered swatches of
the stones  began to crumble
from the sculptures.

Feathers fluttered
fanning  the night
—stars drizzled down
and a dance ensued.

As the dawn drew near,
each swan turned
taking a bow.

The stars followed their path
—the crepe clouds
covered the moon.

When morning arrived,
the ground was blanketed with feathers.

The stones cried out,
and sculpted wings
were carried by a 
still small breeze.

Drops of Color/ In Your House…

Drops of Color
In Your House…
(adapted from Psalm 84)

Blessed are they.

In silence, the sound of a match
struck.

The flickering candle sets off
the beauty of the flame.

The slits in the wood
allow a soft yellow tapestry
to dwell on the fixed two-by-fours.

A family is gathered around a table
—the turning of a page
then another
before a voice speaks,

“Blessed are they…”

The aroma of baking bread
rises

—a cup of blessing
passed

—enough to taste.

Thanks given

‘In Your House.’

 

 

Drops of Color/ Oh, so Grand

Drops of Color
Oh, so Grand

Like a snake,
weaving itself through a 
dry, barren terrain,

its skin blue, shedding itself.
Brown…its milk—embryonic fluid.

A womb—
its cervix walls, solid layers
of rock fashioned, becoming
before a single word of testament
etched in stone.

The canyon…Grand.
Alive, its breaths beholden
to a sky, a ceiling keeping
watch both day and night.

Stars paint the rocks,
and when the sun lifts its
head, it reveals a masterpiece
changing, changing, changing.

To hold one’s gaze on this
tribunal of chapters,
the story line has no beginning nor
end.

Every second look is beyond
the first glimpse.

Its beginning—no one present
to tell.

The Canyon is a Mother
—birthing splendor.
Seekers from all over
sit at her edge,
trek down her paths,
plunge into her waters.

She turns back no one…
Some she holds allowing them
eternal rest.

Many come once,
and are never the same.

In some, she resides.
The dust from her soils
embedded in the marrow
of a being

Oh, so Grand

 

 

Drops of Color/ Four-legged Friend

Drops of Color

Four-legged Friend

It was not a chair
placed in some corner
for an unruly Soul.

It was a seat
set in an unknown place
—no on lookers.

The chair was
rickety, wobbly.
The cushion frayed and 
sat upon
innumerable times.

By whom?
It matters not! 

Sitting, the rush of
a million voices heard—
like the sound of a waterfall.

There was I,
—deluged, soaked,
not a crevice dry.

Hanging my head,
every lasting drop
spilled to the floor.

Suddenly, every ‘voice’
gone—vanished.

Lifting my head
—a light found its way
into the room.

A warmth filled my being.
How I longed to stay.
This four-legged friend
carried me for what felt
like hours.

Quietly,
the empty space
seemed to say
‘you can come here

anytime’

and it does not have to
be in ‘this’ space.

Wherever you are,
Whatever is happening,
You know this ‘place.’

Find your four-legged 
friend,
and sit awhile
—or the earth’s floor is a wonderous
cushioned seat!

No matter what is 
happening in your world,
around the world—
it will not go away.

Yet, the prayerful place
will change the 
Soul forever.

 

 

Drops of Color/ Eden

Drops Color
Eden

A field 
laid open.
Every direction
unmarked for miles.

A wisp of wind
strummed its way
through the tree
holding a center
like a point of nothingness.

Chimes rang
like a bell-tower
—a rope pulled an invisible
thread by an unnamed ‘Who.’

Each ‘gong’ set off
pairs of hidden wings
draped between the
slender stalks of lush
undisturbed grasses.

The soft scent of earth,
like incense rising,
filled one’s nostrils
—breathing in the landscape
—breathing out the gentle
vapors of a ‘self’
pooling in
the Divine culmination
of the Universe entwined
in a rapturous
service
never ceasing.

The tree lifted its limbs,
its roots holding
steadfast.

The homily sung
through draping leaves
welcoming the sun
and whispering
‘good night’ to the
slivered moon
slanting into the purple
western sky.

Here in this field,
Eden at play.

The tree stands…

We have never really
left~

 

 

Drops of Color/ Miracles

Drops of Color
Miracles…

Happen ‘every’ day.

Look…really look.

Listen…quiet yourself…hush!

Touch…the invisible,
pouring itself
into your hands.

Taste…the sweet abundance
—the savory juices
even after 2000 years
—the jars filled with
the freshest wines.

The vineyards are ripe.

We are all laborers

‘faith-filled’

 becoming the miracles
 endlessly creating.

 

 

Drops of Color/ And…for the next performance

Drops of Color
And…for the next performance

Mesmerized
—waiting with wonder.

The wand…was it the wand,
its wave,
or the hand?

Was it the spell
spoken aloud?

I ‘believed’ the furry
little fluffy-tailed creature
would appear out of that hat.

So simple…so magical!

When I was a child,
I thought everything could
be solved by a wave of a
wand, the passing of  a hand,
a verse spoken aloud.

Quickly, I learned
it was a staged performance.

Life is not an act
yet, our actions
allow us the ability
to choose the parts we
shall LIVE out.

Many times now, in the
growing later years of 
my life,
I have drawn the curtains
—not to close out the audience,
but to invite in a
Source who bids me to
sit awhile and listen.

The hushed space is
beyond any magical
notion.  All concerns sit
on the shoreline,
and I plunge into the 
infinite.

All my questions become
the drops in which I swim
—an enormous ocean
I am in, I am.

When I set my feet
on land,
stillness and movement
meet—
prayer and action unite.

How can I help you,
Source of Life?

Suddenly, a creature lifted
its delicate ears.

Hearing my voice,
it was not afraid.

I watched it nibble
the lanky grasses—
green, juicy
—it took in each blade
with sheer delight.

Free
—in fellowship we live this life.
In harmony,
the community is the sun, the stars,
the trees, the rivers,
the desert sand, the Artic icebergs,
the winged-beings and four-legged
creatures, the two-legged persons…
all varieties of colors, genders,
beliefs, faith traditions.
I could go on and on
or maybe

I’ll take off this hat,
put down this wand splashing
ink on this page,
and I will pull a blade of
grass from its root,
place it between my lips,
and hop a while with
my community—

what a wonderful life.

 

 

Drops of Color/ House of Stones

Drops of Color
House of Stones

One by one
they took turns telling
stories.

Sometimes, they rolled over
one another
—they ‘crumbled’ laughing aloud.

Holding in place,
they recalled the youngsters
rushing to the river
each one discovering
what they believed to
be a perfect fit.

The women folk created a mortar
while the men folk outlined
a foundation.

Together, they began laying the
first row, the second, the third
and…

When the last row completed,
a thatched roof secured
the home.

From a distance, they looked on.

Joining hands, they admired their
collective accomplishment.

That night, tucked inside,
they set a fire and dined
around a table…each spoke
a blessing,
offered thanks.

They quieted themselves,
closing their eyes,
trusting the stars outside
were a blanket upon
their foundation.

The stones sang a lullaby.
Even today, if you listen
—they sing out.

Years of earthen ware
standing

what a glorious home
where we dwell.

 

 

Drops of Color/ The Curtain Sways

Drops of Color
The Curtain Sways

Waiting for an ‘image’
to appear.

Holding a timeless gaze.

Suddenly, a window
emerges.

It’s open.

You have been here
before…

Perhaps, You have been
all along?

This time the tempest
seeping through
PLAYS a new kind of song…

it begins from the ‘inside.’

Like the Pied Piper,
a solitary breath finds,
discovers, an opening
and plays through…

The curtain sways
Trusting its partner
to guide the dance.

Now, ‘outside’
every sentient being
waltzes on life’s stage
while stars glitter
igniting a Universe whispering,

“They are catching on.”

 

 

Drops of Color/ Poem

Drops of Color
Poem

Hidden beneath
a quilt
—patterns of colors
warming
a poem.

Words blanketed in stitches
looking out
for unruffled moments.

A window gives way to stars.

A poem breathes
—a soft rise of blues,
greens, oranges, and yellows
fanned out 
highlighting the room.

The sun found its way
adding rays
—a blending of a Universe

a simple poem
becomes…

 

 

Drops of Color/The Sea and a Light House

Drops of Color
The Sea and a Light House

The sea said to the light house,
“Cast your radiance and we
shall carry it outward upon
our waves.”

The light house said to the sea,
“You stretch beyond any
conscious reach where
light and darkness
come together and bridge
any thought of a divide.”

 

 

Drops of Color/ The Wild…

Drops of Color

The Wild…

A soft ‘yip’
met with a cajoling purr
—so nurturing, far from fierce.

Her paws, their tender pads
—the size of a catcher’s glove.

She nudges, prods, cradles
the kit closer and closer.

She draws her into the delicate
blanket of her laced
orange fur.

Mother and child
so affectionate
—come near her youngster
THIS ‘image’ changes immensely.

What would the wild teach us
regarding care for ‘our’ young?

Perhaps, the One who brought
all things into being
has placed a cushioned 
padding around our Souls.

Protecting, guarding, always loving…
yet not eliminating hardships.

Life holds risks as we venture
from our ‘dens’…

The wild has many lessons
to teach the tame Soul.

 

 

Drops of Color/ Open Heart

Drops of Color

Open Heart

Page after page,
words placed like canned goods
on shelves.

You choose the aisle
filled with chapters
delighting your appetite.

At times…a certain shelf
holds a paragraph.
It becomes a sheet of music
—You listen for a sound.

You read the sentences
over and over again.

Now, like a song,
you cannot get out of
your head,

verses enter your heart
open to a tune
longing to be heard.

 

 

Drops of Color/ …to Love

Drops of Color

…to Love

Opening
like a drawbridge,
a lever releases a chain.
Each timely guarded notch
pulls to lift the mighty arms
of its structure
‘open.’

A lowly vessel below
begins to make its way.
The flow of the waters
lead…

A door,
like a bridge—‘opens.’
Hinges allow a sway
like the magic of butterfly
wings.

Listening, the sound
of a heart beats.
The pumping, artistic pulse
of muscle sustains
life.

Love remains open.

Drops of Color/ The Center

Drops of Color
The Center

Kwanza

Hanukkah

Christmas

AND

from this post
holding this center,
each celebration
moving within
its own
direction,
—tradition…

The gift
—when we all
return
back to 
the center,
realizing
we are ALL
One…

Blessed Holidays

Drops of Color/ Painting Faces

Drops of Color
Painting Faces

How is it we choose
the colors we do?

Perhaps, the colors choose us?

When I dab 
a drop of blue,
I become the sky
—eternal my reach, like wings
spread east to west.

An array of red hues
becomes cardinals
—their song gliding
with each stroke of the brush.

Soft shades of brown
—I am earth
breathed out of soil.
Suddenly, ‘green’ sprouts all
around
—bushes, trees
bloom like a kaleidoscope
twirling themselves—
changing, becoming always NEW.

Yellow bursts of daffodils,
I become.

Purple violets paint a scene
within, a face
orange—a flame,
yet unconsumed
rising from its center.

All the colors painting faces.

Black, the splendor
which all things began

—a void,
and the dark made room to
fulfill a spectrum
of colors—LIGHT.

I see faces
in every color.

Most of all
I see You
—the designer
—who places in my hand
the instrument to create
the You
who dwells
in me

AND

in every puddle of 
paint
whose circle widens
with one single drop.

 

 

Drops of color/ If…I only had a heart

Drops of Color
“If…I only had a heart

I would lift the window
inviting you into the ‘room’

where its soft essence
rhythmically drums.

I’d ask, gently of course,
for you to ‘Please, lift the latch,
crack open the pane
of your treasure chest’—

I’d whisper
a prayer.
‘Please accept this invitation’
so we might combine the song
—the sound of our hearts
beating together holding each measure…
not a single note off beat!’

If I only had a heart, I
could stop searching and be at
rest.

‘If…I only had a brain’

I could unload a treasure trove
of words.  I would write love letters
signed with x’s and o’s.
You would know them, they were
from me, because,
well, because I did not seal
the envelope
—so much love enclosed
—a seal could not, would not hold.

If I only had a brain,
I’d write eternally—YOURS.

‘If only I had courage…’

I’d descend into the abyss of
clouded thoughts
where NO light dares to shine.

I would light a match—
the flickering flame would set
off sparks setting aglow
caverns of Souls believed
themselves ‘unworthy.’

To each i would hand a candle,
eyes would OPEN.

We all would recognize the light
each of us is in one another.

Courage, yes, we all would rise
—darkness would fold itself back.
Our shadows would be like stars.

If only I had courage,
I would whisper aloud,
‘SEE, the reign of heaven
is EVERYWHERE.’

Drops of Color/ Tight Rope

Drops of Color
Tight Rope

Slender pole
in hand.

A sliver of a thread
called a rope
holding feet.

Movement, S L O W—
precise.

Wind burst
pushing the walker.

Slanting into the wind,
not looking down
nor up.

The elongated toothpick
gripped by fingers
—knuckles white holding life.

Balanced.

This is NOT an ACT.

Life is walking a tight rope.
Falling, oh, yes slipping from the rope
IS a reality.

Courage…
holding, reaching out for
the resources in hand

AND

getting up again and again

trusting an Unknown presence

holding the narrowed line at 
both ends

—offering, guiding
and leading you

—to step
and walk the path

—designed for your soles
to discover and live out

one solitary step at a time.

Drops of Color/ What’s Next

Drops of Color
What’s next?

What, what about Rascals?

Little?

Oh, the Little Rascals:
Spanky, Buckwheat, Alfalfa, Darla,
Froggy…’Petey.’

The ‘He man Women-Haters Club.’

Memories…how a gang of kids
brought ‘out’ life’s moments.

Spanky…Leader, coordinator: he was trusted.

Buckwheat…always welcomed.  Although
inflicted with a slight speech impediment,
he was able to get his
point across.

Alfalfa…dashing romantic.  He sang (off-key)
but, he was destined for 
Broadway as long as…

Darla…the ‘girl’ outside the club,
never ceased to be a part.
She had her own talent and
she filled Alfalfa with inspiration.

Froggy…well, if you recall his voice,
there’s no further explanation.

Butch…why, well…there’s always a 
Bully.  Butch unsettled the group,
came between the boy and his
favorite girl. YET, he caused the 
gang to recognize how they
were significant
—one to another.

FINALLY,

Petey…
the pup with a circle
naturally woven around one
of his eyes.
The all seeing ‘eye’ that
stayed ‘in’ the gang.
Wagging his tail, pulling
at pant legs, hoisting ‘goodies’
away.

Maybe, this is not a poem
—a bit too Rascally.

Then again,
a glance back
beside a sketch of characters

What’s next?

Maybe recalling
some GOOD ole’ days.

Drops of Color/ The Amusement Park

Drops of Color

The Amusement Park

—ALIVE—

then suddenly STOPS…

Hovering above the magical ‘landscape’
—a scene.

Held in place,
beholden to countless ACTS,
performers, attendees…
like a stage packed with whirling
dervishes
in harmony
—life enjoying the dance
—the merriment.

Could it be this way
for all? Glancing in this moment of pause,
silent meditation…in an Amusement Park.

IMAGINE?!

‘Each’ of us given a ‘ticket’
to enter this LIFE…

Reflecting:
No price tag for entry.
No conditions placed based on
race, color, creed, gender, religion etc.
No passport
—Citizenship: Heaven.

Alive, within the Reign of Heaven,
We all EXIST.

It is how we choose to LIVE it out!

How we dwell in this
amusement-park together…

A light flashes…three, two, one.

Hands raised in the air—

Trust the ride.

Live it to the fullest!

 

Drops of Color/ That’s why

Drops of Color
That’s why

Walking across a bridge
back and forth,
then back AGAIN!

Why?

History, painted in boards,
stain after stain
after bloodied stains!

Why write about the past?
Why speak out?
Why invoke the memories?

So that they no longer repeat
themselves…that’s why!

Seems we have to cross bridges
AGAIN and again and again.

Together, let us keep crossing
the bridges until we realize
everyone is free to cross.

No matter your race.
No matter your religion.
No matter your gender.

What matters is:  YOU are!
                                We are…One.

Cross the bridge—
help the ones who cannot
get across!

Let us carry one another.

No One is too heavy.

We are all Sisters & Brothers.
We are all welcome
to dwell in 
‘A Promised Land.’

It’s time.

We cannot give up trying.

CROSS

let’s cross

until no one is left
behind.

Drops of Color/ Here Again…asking the same Question

Drops of Color
Here Again…asking the same Question

Chewy, rich, gooey

savory, chocolaty
seeping with delight.

One wrapper removed
—ingesting the tiny piece of candy.

Treats…no tricks.

Ahhh, unwrapping another
—it only gets better.

The gourd seems to smile
filled with pleasures.

Is this season really here…AGAIN?

Seems only yesterday I wondered,

“What shall I be?”

Did I pack away the costume?

Funny, each year
I ask the same question
—deep down really asking,

“Who am I
after removing
all the wrappers?”

Drops of Color/ Jump In

Drops of Color
Jump
In

That’s right!

Take a few steps back.
Catch your breath.
On your mark, get set…Go!

Before you…
a pile lifting to the sky.
Red, yellow, orange fading leaves
 wait for You.

Leap from the ground,
dive in
‘crunch, crack, crunch.’
A smattering of leaves fills the 
air, and you
lay upon a leafy bed.

Autumn’s golden moments.

Jump in before
the winds arrive
carrying the world
into another wonder.