A Poem in Preparation for Winter

Let the lips open

revealing a river of fire

the heaving of fire

cleansing away

cleansing away

the Before

Praise for Autumn

Bold sun, breeze, gold and amber leaves, the ground covered in papery leaf debris, with lighting-rods of red. Squirrels play chase across the leaf bed sounding like a herd of elephants. One lone hawk turns into a circle of five or six, gliding far above the water, a backdrop of piercing blue and cloud-puff at its wing. Winds fan the water northeast. Rustle & whisper. Cold cawk of a bird off behind the sun.

A Moment with Milosz

A poem from Czeslaw Milosz, written in Goszyce, Poland, 1944:

—My past is a stupid butterfly's overseas voyage.

My future is a garden where a cook cuts the throat of a rooster.

What do I have, with all my pain and rebellion?

—Take a moment, just one, and when its fine shell,

Two joined palms, slowly opens

What do you see?

—A pearl, a second.

—Inside a second, a pearl, in that star saved from time,

What do you see when the wind of mutability ceases?

—The earth, the sky, and the sea, richly cargoed ships,

Spring mornings full of dew and faraway princedoms.

At marvels displayed in tranquil glory

I look and do not desire for I am content.

Thoughts from Hafiz

A poem by Hafiz, a fourteenth century Sufi poet:

I have learned so much from God

That I can no longer call myself

a Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Jew.

The Truth has shared so much of itself with me

that I can no longer call myself

a man, a woman, an angel

or even pure soul.

Love has befriended me so completely

It has turned to ash and freed me

of every concept and image

my mind has ever known.

(From Daniel Ladinsky's The Gift: Poems by Hafiz the Great Sufi Master)

A Place to Start

While I figure out the blogger widgets and gadgets, I'll simply start with a poem of my own.

ON WAKING

1

Dawn comes thin, grey, clear

There is no metaphor here

Just grey blueness, this proclaimed

In the first light

Undo night, unto the dark sight

The seeing again over again

2

I woke up, to face the dark

But the dark would not turn my way

And in my dreaming, when the dark came for me

I woke, just as it said my name

3

If but a word

Could send me into the flame

My name, spoken in Your voice

The opening of the fire-guarded door,

Entry to absurd, everlasting pure