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The occasional lone tear trickles down my face,
landing on my black shirt and will stay invisible there,
with only me knowing its whereabouts.

Even if I don’t understand its roots.

It’s fallen in the middle of silent meditation,
And was preceded by no conscious thoughts whatsoever
As to why it’s chosen now to release.

The mystery is one I embrace.
Deep within me, beneath my layers of protection,
An emotional, a spiritual prisoner of pain needed its freedom.

I am content to merely have been treated to a drip
Of relief
And will allow myself to sit in silence

And hope for more sweet forgiveness.

The birds are out today
without looking at a calendar
and despite the freezing temperature
they know it is Spring
and their turn to
Sing.

This bird I am observing
is shivering
shaking all the more
given the force of wind
and
rears back his little neck
and thrusts forward
letting out his sweet shrill
from his frosted beak

And later I sit
for the first time since late fall
on my designated naturally formed rock pew
and stare at the sunlit water
as a cold breeze slaps my face
and close my eyes
to see a red background light behind my eyelids
and insist
that Spring is indeed here.

I simmer

I will simmer

I have simmered

I constantly have simmering sensations

I was burned 

and the wound was obvious

and was treated

and seemingly healed.

But the heat sent its energy

throughout my body.

Little delicate airpockets of combustion

waiting to get lit on.

My body is lukewarm,

but simmering,

awaiting but trying to avoid

that which will take it to a boil.

My starting point is never on off,

but always ready to heat up.

Meditation, love and friendships

act as cooling agents

and are welcome reliefs

from the body overheating

under the bright lights

or standing too close to the sun.

I love it when a shadow of a flying bird appears on the path in front of me

And I glance above

And see nothing at all there

And I am left to wonder,

Without fear or self-judgment,

if that was an

Hallucination or

A

Vision.

Samuel Beckett said, “You’re on Earth. There is no cure for that.”

Buddha said, “All life is suffering.”

John Lennon wrote, “All you need is love.” 

Paul Westerberg screamed, “We’ll inherit the Earth, but we don’t want it!”

And I get sick of the new method of just loving the people closest to us.

Even Jesus was quoted as saying. “The poor will always be with us.”

Of course he said a lot more positive things about love and compassion. 

But the futility is well established. 

We, who love anyway know that all WE need is love, but that our efforts have failed

and we continue to love.

Can’t stop.

Won’t stop.

Right up to our collective dying breaths.

And

we will fail

but it is all we know.

Sadness still visits me as I visit my special place.

But sadness brings different qualities here.

Gentleness

And exuding compassion.

Shining brightly,

Sadness loves me here.

I close my eyes
But not so that I don’t see the beauty in front of me
But so that I can intently hear the waves lapping onto the rocks
And feel the warm breeze on my face
And feel my own breath
So that when I open my eyes again
I will see the beauty more fully
And more clearly.

I heard the Redwinged Blackbird sing “conk-la-ree!”

So, I spun quickly around in direction to find the singer of this beautiful song.

But, alas, the bird was nowhere in sight.

Again

“conk-la-ree!” rang out again,

And I spun around in the opposite direction

Only to be left again with a missing branch.

And then again the sound and I, somewhat gracefully

I’d like to think, pirouetted in yet another attempt to spot the singer of the song.

It was only then that it occurred to me that I was actually dancing.

And it felt right.

I wish that I could remember the first time

I saw a Redwinged Blackbird.

I remember so much in haunting, terrifying details of other things.

I just wish I could remember my first encounter with the Redwinged Blackbird to reassure me that

My mind can hold onto that which is beautiful

with the same ease of that which is clearly not.

My Older Brother

I idolized you,

And imitated you.

But I was young then,

And you were older,

But young then.

I stare at my age,

And I know that I have outlived you more than one way now.

But I never outran your laugh or your rebelliousness.

Both are the roots that helped me grow.

We grew up differently,

In oddly different times separated only by a handful of years,

And

In ways that only you and I and our siblings would understand.

Formative moments in your life,

Would be only distant memories that I kept below my surface

And allowed me time to breathe.

You held my son in your arms just after his birth.

I have the photos to prove it,

And my memory of that moment

To jump ahead of every other memory,

Good or bad,

Happy or sad,

And see you for the big brother,

That held my first kid in your arms,

And smiled the goofy family smile

That we always hold in common.