Table of the Chosen

Nibble on the toe of a radish
or a musty piece of bread
like they were a feast
and know that you are sitting
at the table of the chosen.

We care not
when laughter and loving company
thrives and expands with the seasons;
the abundance of so much awareness
of the gift we are given to have
each moment.

Walk the beach
and lick the salt from your lips
or look into the distance at the lighting
that brings the storm crashing next to the sea.
The foaming waters
cleanse you as you swim toward shore
where you will find
your true companion
waiting to take you home.

The sand is cool under your feet
and you will circle back to this edge
like a saint
hovering near the oak
strong and sure
of the way
the wind
will not break these branches
until it is too late to care.

Burn Like Karma Leaving

This anger, a raging fire in my heart,
has risen up in defiance of the sting of suffering.
There is no cool water
or lush green in this place.
No soft pillow
on which to rest
my weariness.

I am inconsolable
as a child without her mother.

I want to lash out
and turn the venom
of my mind's enemies
into mist, smoke, sweat,

the ghost of another soul,

and let this violence, like karma,
leave me as all dream does. . .
a wisp of the poison
I serve myself
after feasting
on another dance
that leaves
my feet bleeding;
my lessons learned
too late.

Walls

Building walls
was never easier
when the the plaster
made of anger and frustration
poured into my blood
and bricks hardened
before my eyes
and between my clenched teeth.

But this new life
near gardens and growing green
folds me in the arms of god
like sheets billowing
in the spring air
and the luster of light
has me laughing
with so much joy.

Walls crumble
in so much loving kindness.

Sacrifices of a Full Heart

Why laze in bed on this day
when I am already fully awake
as the sun rises over the ridge
and paints the hills of Vermont
creaamy like the foam on an ocean
swaying and fluttering golden as prairie grasses?

Find me scurrying up these departed stones of emotion
toward the places where joy lashes herself to the bold face
of wind that scrapes heavy hurts away
one grain of sand at a time.

I will pretend no more.
No more darkness when morning, like this one,
restores me with color of August flowers
and a sea of healing words.

Only gratitude for life's gifts.
Sorrow and regret
will be left
to dissolve
in these mists
of forgetfulness.

Sacrifices of a full heart.

Beloved

I vanish again tonight,
seeking peace in a sluggish world
where selfish vision
clouds our view.

Almost lost, often confused
by this senseless way,
I reach for the hand
of your spirit self;
sturdy and strong
as if the eclipse of many lives
never separated us.

I want to somehow remember
that this game of time
never taught us anything
but to pretend to say goodbye. . .
nothing less than
a slit to the wrists;
a dagger sharp
and full of suffering.

 I spread my darkest wings
in this sky of longing
and search the tides and moonlight
for the stars to guide my way
back to the arms
of the beloved
and all the ways
we know love.

Prayer

This prayer,
this soothing chant,
voice of mystery made human,
settles into my breast
like a mother's milk
comforting a child
at the end of a long day
of struggle.

Let me rest my head
at the crook of your arm
and place my face
warm on that open strength
and I will sleep
with the peace of knowing
loving kindness
forget everything--
the suffering
of the mind.