A Way In

There are spaces

and cracks in our lives

where love seeps in

 

A rock is split

in the freezing/thawing places

of a Minnesota field

 

Powered by persistence

water-life breaks stone

by just being there

 

Penetrating and seeking

as the world turns

in the crevices of life

 

Tenaciously brave-hearted

in rain and snow

unrelentingly supple

 

No matter

how hard

the other heart-

There are spaces

and cracks in our lives

where Love must slip in . . .

 

Even if we are faithless

Christ remains faithful

for He cannot deny Himself.

 

Sometimes

I just hear better

when the rocks say it

 

God’s Love never fails.

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Snow Journey; Sand Prayers

I travel seul; we journey, wearied

Of Me, myself & I- not three

Ego hungers for His Presence

Butterfly in Pollened Lee . . .

 

We are sand, just drifting, sifted

We are flakes the wind will shake

Detached, these dry bones lying frozen

Pieced in ice above the lake

 

Songs  without harmonic motion?

Barques on adolescent’s sea?

Joi de Vivre found in Being

Woe in we if all are me’s

 

We are snows  sifting, drifting

Simple grains the waters rake

Death like lone bones yearning, lying,

Locked immobile ‘neath life’s lake

 

Traitorous, betrayed and traitor

Welcomed wounding, healing space

God’s attacking hoarded me-somes

Slain and raised in arms of Grace!

 

Child- I burrowed snows soft comfort

Youth –my toes the beach embraced

Grown, we travel, far, together

Love creates all kindred space.

 

Snowstorm beckons into calmness,

Cutting sand- smooth agates make!

Let my journey be Communion

Melt my ice and drink the lake!

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Across Silence

between evening

and morning

across this field

doe and fawns

standing

 

silhouetted by woods

blurred, yet enhanced

in slanting flakes

so curiously

unafraid

 

in locked gaze

holy- hushed

the space between

now connected-

such soft silence

 

 

fearful glances

cast at tail-lights

white-smoked

passing as

we still hold

 

something’s given

shivering me

intensely wild

unowned and

arresting me

 

one look

the cost of pausing

to see; to feel

empathy

out where the other stands

 

tomorrow

I will bring some corn

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The Sun Also Rises

On the two of us,

gathered, solemn,

this day’s sun also rises.

Single sentinel form, so singly white,

catching with me,

some warming

in these early rays.

Simple tulip-life

rising undaunted

from grassland,  untended.

Someone planted you here,

life happened

and they left.

How do you still bring

friendly bloom?

Reflections in white

on the disconsolate.

I stretch out across this distance,

Me, with arms and you

your green and white limbs!

Wishing, somehow,

to bring it all back again.

Somehow to brush back

the night spun cirro-stratus . . .

But it is too far, this past

our friends are gone.

Yet I do stare; following your gaze upward

as if staring could bring your light!

My thoughts pass

beneath the warmth.

Heart and brain in fog

weightier sheets it seems

than those tons of droplets

hung in morning blues

all around me.

Drifting up with random warmth,

In chaotic shades

as sunlit-seamed memories

they rise to somewhere . . .

Oh, self, pray, give way!

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One Little Word

Fears-
as verbal, noun,
or, God forbid,
adjective!

Appearing
in so many forms-
and don’t forget
all the relatives!

But who cares,
their literary bounds?-
when in the night
they burst their bonds,
come leaping on,
a’ganging, a’hunting
and all-ranging
as famished demons!

But if I bring
and release them,
become
or increase them,
surely
it matters well
Who hears and how
And with what
intensities,
I speak
The Word,
to defeat them.

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Journeyed

Venturing like a faith-song
into country spaces,
pulled from far beyond me
out from city to cabin
then across
into the calming
of a clearing at dusk-light;
from the chill of crowd
and all such noises
toward what is quieted

The house is within ear-shot
yet the sounds of people laughing
are not comprehended in this silence
I am accustomed to the feeling-
listen: The trees on each side
are touching.
I feel they know my place
much better than I
and I feel they accept my place
much more than I can,
ever.
For I shiver and tremble deep
at such compassionate silence
hearing me.

Journeyed, now
yet only more sure
of this turning away,
the need of movement
to unexplained openings,
leaving physicality enveloped
in the trans-empirical spaces
where unspoken realities
seem so naturally
to have the last word.

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The Aladdin Lamp:Reflections Past

My moth flies well enough
yet cannot see its prison.

Instinctive and stubborn
beating walls with willful wings-
trapped by transparencies
unaccustomed to submitting.

Is breaking on hardened barriers-
savoring pride trapped in regrets,
better than a humbled turning,
and leaving by given exits?
So it seems, Moth-boy.

But, how valiant to watch!
Immolation of self/pride
around the globe, again, yet
left, finally, alone, inside.

Living these minutes
trapped in habits; the past
less than a foot from freedom,
entombed in opened glass.

I pretend disinterest
drawing another Camel Straight
I’m smoking my grief down
(just a cough, ignored and slight)

Other blackened lives
litter the Aladdin’s base
and my image, too,
pulled across the sooted glass

I note the flutters
and the weakening-
bound to die or
free to be leaving?

Still airborne, nearer the flame.
Hear the fateful singe!
The wick sputters;
and the fire is eating.

Life’s lanterns and all,
we only stay a while,
dumbly wasting the pain,
God knows, Moth and I.

 rjs

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