The Guide

Last night I dreamed I met my Guide.

He hoisted me onto his back and
trudged away from the cove
up the side of the mountain.

I asked him if there was anything I could do
for him.

I said, I do not want to be a burden.

He replied:
Then lighten up.

This Longing

There’s an island off the coast that
I never went to.

I think there’s a blue grotto there –
we’ve all heard about it –
where wild women, their hips swaying as they work,
sing, and sigh.

Where the guitar-players with manly chins
stubbled and dark,
and strong white teeth
laugh, and stroke
the familiar cat that passes by.

There’s the sound of children playing
in the swell of the waves.

We follow the cobblestone road
under a sky that’s heartbreaking blue
to the yellow house with the peeling paint

on the edge of a beach that’s smooth as a pearl.

But none of this matters.
All I want is to be with you.
The island fades; the city is razed
in my heart

and the huge flowers wilt
like longing that flees
before the day.

Morning

The spring morning lightens the dark
and the heaviness of thunder
like a huge rock crashing to the floor
shatters the spring dawn.

I lie in my tent, and listen for the rabbit
and the baby bear to come
softly – through the pouring rain.

Today they feast on jasmine and Russian olive
and a wet, pink flower that has not yet been named

and I read your letters and gather up my sorrows
and put them all in a small waterproof sack
and rise again
to meet the day.

In the Heart of an Igloo

I have fallen in love again
the winter brought me here
on a boat of snow and slopes:

I can write again.

and the snow flakes
have become fat and wet
and press against my body
like the tongue of a lover

I went deep into the heart of the igloo
and there you were:
My pen. My paper. Heart into words.

I have fallen in love again.
Let me be the paper; and you the pen
Take me – I lie passive as the storm rages outside
Write me – I lay myself naked before you
You are the One
I am your Queen
and your Slave.

The Veils

Lift that veil and you’ll see clear:
the mountains in the distance, your dear face, even the sea,
and the words you speak
to me.

Now lift the next veil
Amazing: more light, more sense, more sparkling gems

Then lift another
and another
All through your life, let your friends
help you, and your work, and your play as well

until the last veil is lifted
and all is revealed:
you have found yourself.

This Stone, This Dawn

The time being is being in time
right now – here – this moment
this breath, this smile, this piece of stone

We all know that. It’s what the sages say.
but it’s gathering the energy to stay
this way
that is so hard.
like a great wave crashing over us
and sweeping away back out to sea
we’re back to long ago
or thinking about the next big wave
or what’s below.

But see – even while we wait
we’re soaked in the ocean of time
of being
the waves are only brief images
like a shimmering mirage
in the desert heat
or a single heart beat

yes the desert is time – not the mirage
and the heart is time – not the heart beat
and the ocean is time – not the wave

Be mindful of that – and be at peace
You’re always here: this moment, this breath,
this stone, this dawn.

Listen To Those Crazy Crows

Listen to those crazy crows
after the thunderstorm

caw – caw – caw

like birdsong wrenched from the throat
of a black-feathered prince
enchanted in a fairy tale

why am I here
who put that spell on me
caw – caw – caw
look at this old watermelon they threw out
the sun is nice and hot
come sit on this branch, my dear.

caw – caw – caw

I am a crow up high
on the branches of a delicious pine
and my prince is disguised too
so that we can hide from the angry king
and the witch and the goblin
and seek and find…

safe in the blue sky we cry
wrapped in our feathers that make us invisible
we hide
screaming our jokes, our injunctions, our news …
yes, we’re having a tremendous time.

Friendship

a long time ago
you were my friend
i don’t know what happened
to that particular ship

did we drift apart
or did we fight and I never knew?
did I hurt you?

one day we’ll dock in the same harbor
and meet each other
we’ll hug and walk
and drink some wine
and talk
on that far away island
at a small cafe
surrounded by vanilla vines
near a waterfall that flows
into clear sea

and you’ll tell me.

It’s Not What Happens to You

It’s not what happens to you
that counts
it’s how you respond

so whether you’re kissed
or whether you’re not

or whether you’re this
or that
or grow big
or remain a dot

if you’re successful and full of fun
or fighting for a cause
or staying at home

abandoned or cherished
or alone

nothing matters but that you stay the same
don’t get embittered
don’t feel ashamed
but live generously, kindly, and full of love
for people
for yourself
for the earth
and your God

and for the Rose
in the garden
that you planted
and adored
and tamed.

The Edge of the Shore

a sandpiper waits
at the edge of the shore
the sun shines hot
the breeze is stiff and bright
what is he waiting for

a wave leaps in
he jumps some more
stares out to sea
looks round at me
then waits again at the edge of the shore

I used to think
That life was more
Than jump and wait
And love and hate
Standing until your legs are sore

But now I know
That life is just a long wait by an open door
And peering through
And wondering too
What lies beyond what you can see from the shore.