how silly to speak of
the heavens opening up . . .
when i walk through this world
with each step my foot sinks deep
into the rug of God’s bedroom
the sweet smell of God
cooking up something new
brings laughter to my tongue
and the songs of
our little winged brothers and sisters
ushers in a great procession
of dance and revelry
how silly to speak of
the heavens opening up
(as if there were really a pearly gate to hold us back)
i think people like to talk like this
because if they started acting
like they were in God’s house
Love might get out of hand
So they shut the door to their hearts and minds
and pretend it is the door to the heavens.
i know, i know, it is silly!
but don’t fret
heaven is waiting for them
to come out and play
when they are ready to open up
though i should hear you call
a thousand times over
i will not open my door
what i really want
is for you to come barging in
breaking down the door
that stands between us
like you really want
to come in.
Before, I considered a fall a weakness.
Now that I have bloodied my knees
– Once again
I see it is the only way
To make my proud heart bow.
a bird song
crushed by a passing car
a silent prayer
broken by a passing thought
left alone
yet i am surrounded
there is no refuge
from all this nonsense
Everywhere, all around, surrounded, by what? Who are the beautiful people that find silence and are able to stay there? We read of it, think of it, hear of it, but why does it elude us?
Silence comes to the waiting soul. Silence is not without sound, but it is without disturbance – and we are all so disturbed. Few can find it in the midst of traffic, while many miss it in the open field. And yet it is the place where without sound we hear more and within darkness we see more than all our most ambitious efforts of learning and discovery might afford us.
Wait for it friend, even should it take you a thousand lives, for there you will encounter the thundering voice of the silent God.
from here above
watching myself
the soil, the sun, the rain –
nourishing
the seed –
sprouting, growing, producing,
nourishing.
what else there is, a giant building beside this garden, nothing more.
letting go together, growing together, beautiful we could be together, yet this damned building keeps getting taller.
it is said that strong roots, sturdy branches, steady re-solve, can crush stones.
the marching of the ents.
in this numbness i feel your silence
pressed into the corner where the cement meets the cage;
in this moment of temporary blindness
i see through your eyes the pain of your rape.
what is it that keep us apart?
what is it that makes our hearts so different?
nothing at all . at all . at all .
we are one, it’s we that are fooled
thinking we are where we are for something of our own.
you want what i have, and i want all that’s yours,
both of us are left without,
what’s done is done . is done . is done .
twisted fate, just-less gift,
what we call it, it’s all the same
you’re a devil, i an angel
when we dance together
it’s all the same.
