Revolution

My creative mind’s been busy,

thinking about revolution,

or maybe the idea of it,

the impulse to rebel now and then,

maybe always, though

it’s not about the youthful cries for

freedom from invisible chains,

not about political demands for

change, for the pure sake of change.

No, I’ve been thinking more about

living joyfully,

being happy all the time,

doing something radical,

like being nice to everyone,

polite, helpful, compassionate.

Every day, my body gets closer

to its expiration date.

Sooner or later,

this physical self won’t exist.

There are only so many sunsets,

so few full moons to enjoy,

yet so many other people

to enjoy them with along the way,

to share kindnesses, large and small.

My body’s a bit of a wreck,

definitely well-used,

feeling more like 

ninety-five than seventy-five,

but it’s still my good fortune

to have not died young.

Now, I have no fear of dying,

but death waits for all of us,

the transition to another realm.

My body might be bruised,

sometimes broken,

but my spirit remains 

healthy, whole, complete.

No matter the temporary condition.

there need not be

collateral damage to my soul.

Credo

The center is always clear,

our limits always never there.

We forgive ourselves for doubt,

knowing Spirit is within, without.

We are one with God, come what may.

We prepare not to die,

but rather more to live,

life and death in the same place lie,

what our mirror to us does give.

We let thoughts of death slip away.

Only we ourselves can free us,

as nobody else can be us.

What we think, we’ll eventually see,

assume it is and it will be.

We send love into the world, to all today.

We lovingly and faithfully praise,

creatively and honestly bless.

Pure goodness shines through all haze.

as we smile completely. No more, no less.

Our lives abound with joy, each delightful day.

Haunted

Roommates

I awoke

to see

an NVA soldier

or was he

a wounded VC?

He was

only

seven feet from me,

or was it

only three?

He was

badly hurt,

wrapped and tied,

or was he

actually free?

He was

obviously

the prisoner,

or was it

truly me?

He was

suddenly

convulsing,

or dying now,

trying to get free?

I awoke

to see

my enemy,

and he was

actually me.

Faith

Everyday is truly special,

each a part of new beginnings,

living in this temporary vessel,

ever more so in life’s final innings.

Even when pain is so replete 

that all else disappears,

I’ve learned that there is

but one useful answer:

sit still, be quiet, trust in what appears.

I’ve learned to live with pain,

some of it complete,

stabbing, burning, numbing,

sometimes red hot heat.

If I could transfer this learning,

would that help to

Make America Love Again?

If I could teach this stillness,

would it heal our civic pain?

I  see my body is really nothing

more than thought itself,

and everything is brief.

It works to see that as the truth,

it always brings relief.

Let that be enough.

Don’t be so hard on you.

You’re strong enough, you’re tough,

You deserve pain-freedom, true.

You deserve to be forgiven,

totally, quickly, sweetly.

Life is wild, wacky, wonderful,

in process, totally, completely.

So, out your doubt,

dissolve it, send it packing.

Seek your healing thought 

within yourself, see there’s nothing lacking.

That which is really crucial,

only the heart can see.

Something Good is about to happen,

open yourself, just let it be.

The eyes are not useful to see this,

since the really essential is unseen.

Peace requires one to look within,

surrender all the drama, 

through trust come totally clean.

Be calm, breathe and realize 

that this much is certainly true,

with self-love and affirmative faith,

you’ve done all that you can do.

Future Perfect

When I start with “I am “,

I become more alert,

because change is coming.

I would leave the past behind

were it not so pleasant

a place to sometimes dwell,

listening to the echoes,

consulting my memories.

Still, even though 

some recollections are

too good to discard,

I can’t wait to see

what’s coming next.

I’m a poet now,

became one after I realized

one well-chosen word is

worth a thousand photos.

Don’t know what

I’ll be called next.

Whatever’s coming, 

in an uncertain future,

there are a few things I know.

I intend to be happy, 

healthy and at peace.

I intend to smile often,

laugh too much,

cry when it’s necessary.

It’s not so much the size

of the change that’s coming.

It’s simply staying open to it.

For me, the big secret is to

just pay attention.

Going Great

It’s going to be cool today,

not too much early sun,

not a day to be going out to the beach,

so I’m simply sitting,

in the backyard on a June gray day,

feeling the pleasure of Max and Joey,

taking a break from their morning hunts,

owning the patio garden, 

performing cat meditation.

I’m relaxing, doing nothing, 

not going anywhere,

not thinking too much,

grateful to be present,

learning patience, 

quieting my monkey mind,

waiting for the hummingbirds and bees to return,

waiting for the cacti to flower,

waiting for the birds to sing,

thinking about the difference between

being quiet and finding silence,

remembering to pray when things are

going well.

A request from Brad Formaker

Augur Lake

Standing almost at the top of 

Poke-O-Moonshine Mountain,

the Ausable Chasm in white-out from the fog,

it is easy to imagine the time before the Europeans came,

before a different type of white-out.

When the sun peeks over the mountain, lifting the fog,

the houses appear, the roads, the cars,

but one can still imagine the European immigrants,

the French priests and German trappers,

later, the frightfully greedy land seekers.

One can grasp the meaning of paradise lost.

Augur lake was everything to them,

bathtub in the summer,

a shortcut during winter,

source of food and fun.

Glacier-carved,

darkly deep, two pikes wide at one end,

shallow sunfish small at the other,

a channel or a cove here and there.

As it aged, that lake had its mysteries,

ate a human or two every year,

sucked them down into the weeds,

In late spring, early summer,

before vacationers’ traffic clouded the surface,

one could drift idly,

see the ancient tree stumps below,

wonder what the land was like before the floe.

If one had a motor,

or a young person’s energy,

you could get out to that island,

now made private,

where the best fishing and sunbathing was.

You’d see birds of every type,

small crabs near the shore,

could stare at the sky,

see where it joined the water, 

and if you stayed out late enough,

watch that lake swallow the sun,

waiting for the star show,

catching a night bonfire up the hill.

That lake was everything to its people,

and I bet, on still days,

it served as a mirror

for God’s morning primp.