Wednesday, October 18, 2017

A spot of fiction

A spot of fiction            

I glimpsed the truth of it once –
the apparent world a reflection

on the surface of a lake, devoid
of substance and independence,

floating thinly above the dark drowning
and the deep stillness that supports all the seeming.

A trick of light, the self itself,
moving as the sun moves,

no more when the sun goes under,
a spot of fiction from which to center

the illusory play of light, color and movement
as the sun journeys the inexplicable sky.

I glimpsed the truth of it once (by Your hand) –
myself a fiction, the world a shimmering ostensibility,

while hidden and inaccessible, the Reality beneath.
Awaking each morning, I pay heed now

to my dream excursion, observing
Your timely reminders to turn away,

turn away at every opportunity
from the apparent, the artificial,

the fictitious surface to leave myself
possible and open for That which is beneath.

O child of God, hold out for the Reality
solely because it is Real.


Friday, October 13, 2017

Salvage and salvation

Salvage and salvation            

Over a lifetime, in my own way,
I’ve been moving toward You,

in fits and starts, studying warily
the dim terrain, the scriptures, claims,

promises, attuning myself
to some real or imagined inner guide,

here and there at various speeds and coming,
now and then, to a complete stop,

wondering which fork to take, or why go on
with such a lonely, desperate search.

But only very recently, the sun has peeked
over the heaving edge of the world

enough for me to see that I have
ever been walking the vast deck of a ship

as You return me surely, safely,
irrevocably to home port.

I’m leaning on the rail right now,
taking in the sun, the salt wind

and wondering what I might do, if anything,
to aid in my own salvage and salvation.

O child of God, learn your ship duties,
prepare well for the immeasurable voyage ahead.


Saturday, October 7, 2017

Rumi's field

Rumi’s field                      

Rumi’s field – beyond ideas
of wrong-doing and right-doing –

is not so far away. 
I’m running my hand

along the top of its fence.  It was never
a great distance to traverse

but a coming to a halt,
turning the handle

and swinging wide the gate.
No one to meet me there but myself,

unencumbered of my knothole view,
my prejudices and opinions.

Ah, to lie down burden-free
in that long grass with the wildflower scent

in the sun-warmed field, upheld
and surrendered like a body on the ocean face

letting the current move me where it will.
It’s so near, just over the fence,

and I won’t leave until I’m taken away
or find a way through its summoning gate.

O child of God, not far away nor far in the future.
Seek advice from your constant Companion.




Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Not quite a poem

Not quite a poem        

To denounce someone, the first thing
given up is humility.  Elementary geometry –

I must exalt myself to look down upon others.
Not telling anyone to refrain, mind you –

there are invariably good reasons –
just pointing out the price always there.

I crane my neck looking at the mountain. 
From up there, I might see in all directions.

Knowing intuitively I have not the strength,
the courage, the expertise to climb to the top,

I slip on my backpack and start up the rocky trail.
Better to die on the slopes than back at camp.

So many people in the world,
I’m sure they can do without me

adding my own brand of stridency
to the din of blind opinion.

Whatever you guys decide is fine with me,
knowing it will be the Whim and Will of God.

O child of God, you have paid the price,
lost your humility, writing this not quite a poem.