Eight Short Poems

1. Surrounded by many instruments
    my many tongues
    sprung from the ground around me
    tho the melody I would tell you
    is simple enough to speak alone
    it’s needing to birth around it
    every rich joining in
    clapping
    swaying
    eyes-closed
    raising up, lifting up
    one at a time,
    two at a time, 
    like partners lifting each other up in each of us
    faces alight
    filling the room with light
    and fragrance like a dream

    Sensing more of this - ocean beneath what we see
    and we speak
    after the long rest
    We come out of our homes
    to meet, and tell of our natural treasures
    and of that haven we long for

2. When life comes back to you
    suddenly you’re rich again
    new clothes
    breath returns
    color, 
    like new love,
    teaching everyone around wonder
    humbling the waking-sleepers,
    and for the aged, turning back the years
    joy staying new
    for our children, and our children’s children…

3. Who knows shy
    these comings and goings
    A knock on the door,
    and you leave
    with everything you need
    to receive this world
    its pouring itself for you
    clean breath in your lungs
    leads deep into the hills
    where people greet you, house and feed you
    and every home, in time, becomes your own,
    and melody, and food…

4. A listener is mother to the world
    This letter won’t be written
    poetry doesn’t happen
    unless there’s someone to listen
    If not for you,
    then I was not
    Your call
    with your longings
    your just being there
    Without you
    whole worlds would have stayed
    altogether outside of time!

5. Blight - a word wrongly spoken
    out of time, 
    or not seeing
    A hard slap
    the child years later still
    carries in his chest
    barring the way to his speaking
    The shape is changed,
    only dim forms emerge
    Careful, friend!
    Your saying  closes or opens gates
    and there are anxious faces
    watching and waiting
    their breath following
    every word you will say

6. Tell me!
    Why do I have such doubt
    that you will return?
    And now, how can I remember you
    when you’re gone?
    Without you, everything I do is wrong
    brings down worlds around me
    until your image
    saves lives…

7. Sometimes I scare myself,
    thinking- where will this end?
    and then, comfort
    rising high above
    anything I could imagine…
    Aah, to tell you of this
    it’s all I live for…

8. Ha!- They put a price on this!
    Empty all the treasuries of the world
    and you couldn’t buy
    the first letter of the first word
    Laborers  rest when they hear of this,
    Beauties surrender their play,
    Armies lay down their weapons,
    Statues weep
    as warmth caresses every shape
    and leads to people,
    wild   lucid
    giving themselves away

Three Dharmasala Poems

   I’m a Song  (about the quiet nights in Dharmasala)

Aaah,   Listen!
Silence!
Like tall cathedral bells
great peals of wonder
spanning heaven and earth

Take me   to you
to your  dark embrace
to forget distraction, old hurt
to rest with you
to be made whole again

You   match a life I carry within
and   I need this  touch that can cover
the broad me,
that is deep and fine
so that the morning’s child will appear
fresh, and chasing the dawn!

prayer  a small candle
eclipsed by the light of day
a prompting to open the door and see who’s there
a messenger announcing the arrival of the king,
medicine that grows as it’s needed
with grace and comfort
least expected yet hoped for still,
against unbelief
A barren river bed offers up its cries
and stirs the core of heaven to come running
pouring itself in streams
flooding valley plains
Search out the beginning of this movement in us
to reach out, to reach upwards
and it’s of the same glory as its end
like holding a small gold coin close
and passing through gates
until you arrive at a city
where everything is made of that same light…

You are the poetry, and I’m just the fortunate one
today who gets to say it…

O, but what have I to give?
I, who arrive late, empty-handed
still surprised at the sudden luxury
of knowing you
At your inviting,
I am hushed,
and so, wide-eyed, I point,
as to a falcon or a robin,
to this meeting made
of so many roads left behind
This time that alights, so briefly,
is the gift itself to me
What could I possibly add that would be worthy?
Of myself, nothing,
but here, 
my thankfulness, 
a mirror
showing how lovely you are…

(and one from back in Thailand)

I go to be by myself
to draw out these secrets
their pull is stronger than anything else
the outside arranges itself to match these needs
still being born
we will see in the end  why this urgency
why every limitation was broken
and everything moved to face this center