Hazel eyes filled with stillness
meet mine at the farmers market.
I suddenly realize I have been seen,
and remember why,
some people hold so much meaning for me.
Silence is so sweet, mocking the currents,
offense, defense, distrust, anger, fear,
all replaced by interest and attention.
You reminded me of love, real love,
to be held in someone’s heart and eyes,
in-trust, embodied as meaningful,
in the sweet silence of connection.
So many lovers wrapped in each others arms,
are doomed to part, having forgotten
the simple skill of watching another, with appreciation.
Afraid to notice that wonder has fled,
that familiarity has been forgotten,
and that meaning, the sweet and silent sense
of wonder, has gone on to seek bolder souls,
While appreciation, an unspoken spiritual embrace,
finds me courageous enough to notice, your beautiful eyes.
The poet brings not hurt or woe
save when the reader makes it,
but shares a sight found true within
turned into song to shape it.
If in the words you find that pain
arises as you sing it,
greet your tears with gratitude
your heart had strength to bring it.
Tho If you’re sure as sure can be
that cruelty is the poet,
just close the page, then step away
and add no voice to sow it.
Remember if you find a need
responding to chastise one
that you have left off caring to
make anger your companion.
when anger and defiance arise
perhaps instead of finding flaw
You’ll write a poets missive to
affirm again the timeless law.
What you can give, do give away
greet wrath without demanding
for cruelty is but pain denied
till healed by understanding.
The years passed by quickly, far too quickly,
for pain to make its own impressions clear,
almost too fast to feel the weight, and strain,
and pay the growing cost of age, and time.
Now life has weight like sodden winter wool,
when perseverance and all efforts fail,
a day in time when suddenly again,
the way it is, is not, nor long has been.
Now I am tired bone deep, soul deep and hear
surrender’s call to leave this task and rest
far from the strategies of empty days
where power’s pride of steals light from every gaze.
Defeat, a fear I never thought to feel
whispers of things that time may come to steal,
pecks at my heart to take my peace away
life loses light stolen from every day.
My dignity and independence due
for my life’s work was all I asked of you.
Perhaps a time of rest when near the end
to sleep and rise whenever I should choose.
Sweet lies are these, acceptance, peace and rest,
while principals are parted soon from those,
who leave them whenever they find it best
to modify their feelings for their goals.
Fear, absent from me for so many years,
in seeking trust of humankind appeared.
though after darkened skies and constant rain,
I ventured, though still fearful, out again.
How could I have ever found it true,
to spend my days in such open distain?
So now I work at finding work to do,
and treasure life and hope in every day.
Though feelings scar as well as any blade
still I will never flee from them in fright,
but go on seeking rainbows in the day
and howling out my sorrow in the night.
My sometimes cursed, yet always blessed life
weaves on, a path this orphan must pursue,
stumbling amiss yet never lost, I leap,
across the dark, protected, wrapped in light.
Though all my thoughts may lead me to despair,
all damage done, the darkest moment come,
no witness will report ere qmore than that these
were swept aside by passing butterflies.
The trailing end of twenty years constrained,
brought me the sun to lead me out again,
tested yet still with every passing year
alive, and whole, blessed by those brilliant rays.
Sweet Light, the blessing of my winding way
that brings me ever safe and home again,
you touch a butterfly upon its way
and make me diamonds of the grasses dew.
How then should I ever find a way,
to trade the darkness for immunity,
when courage and surrender are the same
and beauty is the price of being free.
The Patient Wolf – Symbol of individuality and pack loyalty, fierce and nurturing.
More People get lost than you would expect. Most have never been taught and so don’t know what’s right. I have people ask me questions like: how do I know if I’m happy, can you teach me how to feel my sadness, I don’t understand why I’m always angry, can you tell me anything that will help.
Wolves don’t talk, they act. They guard and guide the pack to keep it safe and well fed. They are connected to life by their nature. Contrary to the distorted images presented to people to justify slaughtering wolves who occasionally ate livestock as their free range became crowded by settlers, wolves are not aggressive towards people unless compelled to protect themselves or starving.
In this blog poetry is the whisper of meaning and beauty that has touched my life. My hope is that it will move you into a place where you will feel more fully, more connected, and more fulfilled. I hope something you read will help you learn things that lead you to grow in new ways.