Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Do You not pity us more than love?
We are so fragile made.
Apt to crumble at slightest touch,
gasping for breath we need so much.
Do You not wonder in sympathy?
We are so fragile mad.
Prone to failure and to pain,
seeking a slaking even in rain.
Do You not weep for us more than condemn?
We are so childish women and men.
Reach out and touch us on our face,
You who are love, and mercy, and grace.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Uncoil your mind and lay it flat
beside the lake or on the grass.
Spread out your worries and your arms
let go of tight and just relax.
The jewel weed rests beneath the dock
where water strokes the rocky shore.
Stones let the waves their soothing work
perform, and worry never more.  
The sun, the shade, will welcome you,
your only duty: to enjoy.
And soak in gratitude for life,
more person than you were before.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Come, let me show you my hawks.
We are old farmers,
with old machinery that needs replacing,
and have some wooded pastures
no farm animal grazes
(though we do not speak of this to farmers).
So woods remain, and long grasses,
with small animals secret.
When I walk the trail through the woods they come to me.
My hawks.
They swoop above me in full screech
and hang almost still until
just as I aim my camera,
then glide swiftly down the sky
behind the sheltering trees.
Mostly the male calls down curses
to keep away from his life,
and sometimes is joined by his warrior queen.
I have not gone near their treetop nest,
in honour of their majesty.
We also wished to be left in peace
as we raised our children.

Our children grown do not want to farm
And we do not wish it upon them,
Only keep the land and lay yourself down,
Let the solid peace soak up through your bones
And rest yourself on the land.
And see the hawks soar,
Masters of the sky.
And know yourself owned by the land
And a subject of long live the hawks.

Sunday, July 7, 2013


When someone you love leaves,
moves away to a different country,
never to return,
the present country that seemed so pleasant
is no longer as attractive.
Because you do not yet have your travel papers,
you remain in your place and do the work that is yours,
with care and compassion towards all,
but you spend time thinking about the country ahead,
and are less attached to your life in this country.
It does not matter as much what people think of you,
since this land is not your final home any more,
a part of you has gone ahead,
and it is that future life that tells you
what is and is not Important in this life.