Stirrings from Stillness

Much to my continued amazement, I sometimes write poetry.

Well, that's not exactly true. It's more like something bubbles up from the depths and demands to be written down.

Old Gods

If I could slip out the side I would

of this old dusty dress too tight no good

and run off naked in the night's warm breeze

to a moonlit shore, fall down on my knees

and pray the old gods take me then and there

to some other place where I shan't have no cares

of this land's burning, fires of greed and hate

far from the crush of men who just won't wait

to get inside a box and shoot at speed

to their metal cages so that they can feed

the monsters of this crazy time

while thinking things are all just fine

but I'm laced too tight by my own fears

that fight this heart's aching grief, these tears

so my despair I try to ignore

and lose all hope of finding freedom's door

still some times at night I hear a tune

emerge from the starry sky and moon

and in my dreams I find release

in a land of truth, love and peace.

Tonight I am a forest

Tonight I am a forest

Full of whispers in my leaves

I have a secret message

To tell you from the trees

But first you must come closer

Let go of what you think

You know of all the questions

And the answers that you seek

These woods won’t take no prisoners

Of maidens true nor fair

My boughs cannot protect you

From life’s hardness and despair

But bring with you your grieving

To my hidden pools this night

Your tears can fall here freely

Come bathe in the tender light

Of the moon that’s risen softly

To recite her haunting song:

“Only fools will hold so tightly

To ideas of right and wrong”.

The Shattering

And then there was you.

Your tender, broken body lay motionless at my feet.

And no amount of blessings or Om Ah Hums

would breathe you back into wholeness.

That velvet coat, wrapped around your dainty form

still full and tender, yet to be taken into death's decay.

My momentary confusion - half of something left by something else?

Then the horror of grasping that your other half -

that once delicate, blooming head,

with perfect eyes, long whiskers and twitching nose -

had been crushed beneath someone's mindless foot.

And with that, all my heartache and love,

Love for this bleeding, senseless world,

Poured out into a deafening silence that refused to be filled.

The Melancholy Heart

As the sun

Dips below that distant line of trees

A familiar unfurling begins

In chambers closed

To the bright blue breeze of day

Hush! Listen closely

Can you trace that pulse

Down, down to the hidden places?

A stretch, shiver, a twist

What creature is this?

That rises to the dying light

Of day’s distractions

Looking out from its solitary burrow

The eyes of the melancholy heart

Grow bright with longing.

Awakening

(Last line from Robert Frost)

Learn to be quiet

Very, very quiet

Go into the deep thick undergrowth

Beyond the path

The neatly lined trees

Into those parts where the deer

Walk at night

Where brambles will cling

And scratch at your skin

And you easily become lost.

Then, when your heart quickens

With the panic of not knowing

Which way to walk next

Stop

And be quiet.

There is nothing else you need here

Perhaps you are lost forever

And the foxes will come

To pick at your bones

But look! Over there!

A rough, barely visible track

Taking you deeper and deeper

Into the wild night

Right in front of you this whole time

Sometimes, the only way out is through.