Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Under the tent flap

Under the tent flap                   

In darkness, I keep returning
to the elephant’s fan and spear,

serpent and rope, column and throne,  
each being not only partial and false

but, also – in our singularly karmic journeys –
heartbreakingly valid and vital.

Each to his own under the tent flap
and in that similar captivity,

am I required to assign myself
no greater accuracy or piety

than any other of those rowdy souls groping,
out of necessity, the enigmatic shape before us

and include myself first
among the mere mortals

in their inherent inability to ever coax
the entire creature fully into the light.

O child of God, withhold judgment 
of a particular for the sake of the One.

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

One grave truth

One grave truth         

We get easily spooked viewing the cold,
shoveled up clods and clumps

of that unadorned hole in the clay.
We rush away down worldly-rutted paths

that lead back only to the stone
with our name on it, flirting uneasily

along the way with the great Rulemaker
and the heaven-or-hell Hereafter –

more a credulous element of denial
than a whole-hearted embrace

of that one grave truth. Most acquire their religion,
or the rejection of it, from fifth-hand,

word-of-mouth pulpits and scripture.
Only a few receive the real Word –

most have no ears for it –
and respond by leaping into the open grave,

to begin their digging there
for the faintly rumored water of life,

a thousand leagues deep in the dust
of innumerable lifetimes yet to come.

O child of God, the eternal wellspring, says Meher,
lies in the graveyard dust at the Master’s feet.

Otherwise engaged

Otherwise engaged         

When I wasn’t paying attention, You were –
on the job, while I was otherwise engaged.

When I was confused, You took my part;
rebellious – You were patient.

When I was full of myself, You looked beyond it.
When I was hurtful, You attended to the wounded.

Lost – You kept me on track.
When I was blasphemous, You spoke of other things.

You waited me out when I was stubborn
and when discouraged, You sent me signs.

When I was blind, You went without recognition
and ungrateful, You did without thanks.

When I was bitter, You manifested the miraculous;
when callous, You pierced my armor.

You applied Your wisdom, when I was ignorant
and when I was wrong, You revealed it to me.

Every time I have failed You, Lord,
You have shown the utmost compassion.

Unloving as I am, You have nudged me along.
Unworthy – You have tossed out the scales.

O child of God, perhaps, by grace, you’ve glimpsed
a shadow of His garment’s hem.

A shaking up

A shaking up          

I have come not to teach,
said my Lord, but to awaken.

O lovers!  The journey consists
not of lessons to learn

but of consequences to bear.
Not a mystery for the mind to solve

but a shaking up
for our souls to endure;

a rumbling, rough waking up
to just Who We really are.

Our minds incessantly crafting the dream,
heart seeds apparently must be sown

to stir and grow over time
beyond the mind, beyond illusion,

awakening us to the One Reality towards which
our Lord incessantly beckons His lovers.

O child of God, speculate on such things
only with the borrowed authority of faith.