Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Sharlet, Sometimes I Dream

The light outside 
of this dream
begins to dim
a sudden, sullen
deep, dark pain

The truth is born
between snow falling, 
soft white petals, and you
The liquid in your heart
washes away with the rain

And I know that this dream
is true, in the moment
where I find my breath and hear
the sound of swarming bees,
inside this dream

I laugh and lose my pace
the wind is letting go,
far above the breeze
as the chariot begins to push
towards the sea

Thursday, February 14, 2013

In Love

I am in love
and have discovered it
to be a taste:
the ripening fruit of a locust tree
only a sacrament of vows
can contain

On the wing of enchantment
wrong and right, love is
"the smoke made from the fumes
of sighs", cultivating
full, constant light
foolish and wise, love
begets itself

Of the tree, love is
a star, dropping out of the thickness of time
whispering around the moon
while the world lays warm
the sun will never be
as happy as me
here, where I lay
a jewel in my hand
I am in love

Monday, February 4, 2013

At Eleven

Siddhartha at camp last year
I believe it is a sort of sensation, to reach the second decade of continuance. A tenth of life behind and an endless range of possibilities ahead. At the surface, the air is still thin, clear and fair. The days are fresh water, played out in the ease of childish pleasure. Internally, the colors are brighter, the bloom is heavy, and the air is thick as fruit begin to ripen. 

Eleven is a crossing, a cloverleaf; the bridge to a larger path. Our eldest son has reached this pivotal mark. Where his demands are a bit grander. His sense of understanding, based on a more worldly view. His expectations higher as his capabilities grow. Responsibility and frustration become evident with the natural sense of development. Yet, he still carries with him a box of youthful treasure: an innocent wonderment, the earliest light of a sunrise, and the delight in daily adventures. He is still a kid. A treat to say that he is my kid.

A summer day at the pond, which was spent climbing boulders

Happy birthday, my brilliant son!