Friday, November 30, 2012

I got a glimpse of infinite
Funny how things turn around
I could have sworn the sky was black
White crow swoops out and down
I used to see beyond my eyes
To the realm of God and spirit
Past here and now which terminate
Past touch it see it hear it
But now so much reverses
Loving blessings bring painful curses
The immensity of grief
The shock and unbelief
The longing for the departed
Diminishing all else
Going on in all directions
And I see no end
Nov. 28

Life ruined,
I might as well give it back
I tried to be careful
But it's seen some hard times
Been knocked around some
Been thrown to the ground
And after that last wrenching grief
It just hasn't been the same
I have a feeling it will never work smoothly again
So You might as well take it back
Maybe You can do something with it I don't know

Friday, November 23, 2012

We walk on ice with egg shell shoes
We cannot hold on to what we lose
A harsh wind blows us makes us sway
And in a moment we are swept away
No time for hatred anger wars
Too delicate our thin life's course
With mercy's brush strokes on the sky
We must paint life as it flies by
With feather-light caring touches of love
We must follow the winging dove
Turn blink of eye from that which shatters
To dwell upon the pure that matters
We balance best when reaching low
To lift a fallen friend or foe
And when from life's knife-point ice we fall
We will see Love has been behind it all

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Nov. 8, 2012

I could open wide my heart
but the plumes of dark smoke
would bring unwanted attention.
So I go away to the lonely place,
my cabin in the wilderness.
Late autumn winds blow around and through log spaces
but do not flutter the ravaged edges of my flattened faith as the daily breeze at home has done.
A riotous crowd of geese makes a big production of flying overhead.
Here now the woodstove crackles me comfort,
but outside the small windows there is a whisper of tiny crystals flung and falling, hitting the surfaces of dry wood and dead leaves that have given up resistance.
In the stillness of the many trees and no people
I feel, if not the healing, at least the resting of the ravaged heart.
All I have to do is feed the stove and keep a book handy.
The woods will do the rest.

Hard homecoming
You say you have no home well I have one
But no one coming maybe you should come
This time of year it's what we do
A hard homecoming for me and you
You had a home once welcoming warm
I had someone before the storm
But your home once is now your lack
And my loved one will never come back
Your hands are cold with me it's heart
We'll make a fire each warm our part
Be here together where we've been tossed
Think of what we had and what we lost

Friday, November 9, 2012

Cloud AtlasCloud Atlas by David Mitchell
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Well worth reading.
Memorable quotations:  "An idler and a sluggard are as different as a gourmand and a glutton." (p. 54)
"We looked at each other for the last time; nothing is as eloquent as nothing." (p. 347)
"Books don't offer real escape but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw." (p. 357
A revelation on the two offenses of the elderly, on p. 361.
"It's true, reading too many novels makes you go blind." (p. 363)

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