You Must Stand

You won’t be able to change.
Not them
or you.
Neither.
It’s all magnets
molecular bonding
adhesive.
As long as you want
them to know the truth
you are lost.
You are nothing
but an orbit
around a lie.
If you need someone
else
to know they are wrong
about your world
you exist
in their world
already.

And I get it.
because what if they are right?
We know it’s wrong.
But when they believe it’s true…
And we care about them,
we doubt ourselves.
How do we fight against
something we can’t hit?
Oh, how we will point to something
they can’t see…
and for how many years?
I think it’s measured
in how well
you thought
you knew them,
and how much
you wish
they could love you
as you love them.
These kinds of losses
are measured in long minutes
all day
in years
that stretch into decades.

Trusting someone
you want to trust…
expecting someone
can look at you and see
who you really are
is second nature
to breathing.
Which is why
when they can’t
you can’t
breathe.

Being invisible
to another…
it’s a one way mirror.
They
are only seeing
their reflection.
They are always speaking
to themselves.
Listen to their accusations
and you’ll hear
the voices they can’t stop hearing.
Look at how they look at you…
as they look at someone
they cast aside
like a forgotten toy
like girl who’s mom
never remembers to pick her up
after school.
Remember this….
they can’t carry it.
When you know
that what they say about you
is false
that’s when you know
that they
can’t
carry it…
they are, without meaning to,
hoping that you will.
And if you do
you are both lost forever.

You have to know
where you stand
even when their
wildest stories
about you
make the sane you
doubt your sanity
even then…
especially then,
you have to stand.

If for no other reason
than to have something positive
come out
of how someone you loved
lost how to love themselves
and told you
it was your fault….
you must stand
even if you
are the only one
who sees it.

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Posted in art, Essay, Koan, Meditations, Poetry, prayer, relationship, spiritual poems, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

All You Gotta Do

Mostly
it’s like this….
you can’t learn
anything
until you’ve unlearned
just about everything.

I mean, it’s like this…
you can’t fly
when your feet are on the ground.
Everyone knows that.
Why do they keep trying?

What’s in your pockets?
You gonna write
with the pencil you can’t find
or reach out with your feelings
into the universal  mind?

There’s a thrum
and a hop
there’s a beat
that won’t drop
there’s a hammer
that won’t stop
like rain on a mountain of mud
flowing into the creek
looking like blood
the Earth’s drenching in a mortal flood
of people who
won’t
can’t
don’t
wouldn’t
shouldn’t
do a damn right thing
if it hit them on the head
like a Bible book
dropped from the sky,
like a commandment
falling from up on  high
saying “all you gotta do
to not die
is continue
to try”

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Blade

There isn’t a word for it
but I’ll try…

-how was that?

There isn’t a name
that doesn’t separate us…
So, I’m going to quit using them.
It’s okay,
I’ve memorized who we are
and who we were going to be
before I was born.
I just forgot it all
the moment I got here.

The direction
you are going in
is also
going in to you,
changing you from the outside
in
the way square rooms
makes humans
nature’s strangers.

Speaking of cutting the chords…
your knife is dull.
What will you slice with
when you
don’t dare
excise the tethers to
all those well meaning experts
on how you
must be
you?
They are only here
like pumice
and honing oil
asking you
to defend
to push
against the claimless
and unwarranted…
they will be the blocks
to either bludgeon
your mind
or sharpen
your blade.

And your blade
need hurt
no one.
Yet, what also doesn’t hurt
is for them to see
that you have one.

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Through Glass

She waves at him
through glass
and turns.
Not a word
nor gesture more.
An ersatz mother
a world away
seeing her aquarium
son.

As more come to know
and love him
they
come to know
how unkindly
forgotten
he is.

If you believe
that life is beautiful
and fair
you are correct.
If you believe
that life is ugly
and haunting
you are correct…

For I know a good soul
who lost in herself
all that was good
and taught herself
how to pretend
not to notice
and in that necessary
not noticing
forgot her children
her family
her roots…
she’s a stringless kite
a bird that can’t land
legs that won’t stand
a beach with no sand.

I’ve saw her become
a ghost
and haunt the lives
of those she loved.
Through the glass
she sees us
and never questions
why it is
that she can never touch us.

How do you tell
a ghost
they are a ghost
when they are sure
you are not real?

Through the glass
we watch her
not notice us.
To her,
we never were.
It never was.
She’s dreaming
of how it’s all
someone else’s past,
even as we are all
awake…wondering
if it’s humane
to move on
without her.

Do you look over
your shoulder
for your mom
if you know
that she’s
not ever
going to be looking?

I’ve watched the children
roam the castle of our life
following the leftover voice,
the memories of how
things were once sweetly said,
they are thinking,
“surely she too is looking for us”
but up on the parapet,
I see them see
she’s walked off into the woods
she’s on the edge of the moor
blurred
white
ephemeral
floating
in her necessary dream…

Helpfully,
people advise
to turn away
to live with our backs
to it…
but it is the glass through which
we three
see
the world
and nothing ever changes
that.
No matter which direction
we look in…
this loss is not something to
overcome,
but something to be
survived.

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Free

I want to have words.
I want keys
for the locked door,
to
the blocked staircase
to
the tower top
where the stars
wait for their observers
to ask questions.

When the sky wants
to have words
it makes people
like us
with questions
like water
in an Earth shaped bowl
spilling
over
with wisdom
that evaporates
when it strikes
the hot pan of
what we don’t understand
and falls again
rains again
on an unsuspecting
populace.

How few are we?
How many others rest
in this…absurd pretense
of peace,
that is built upon
the backs of strangers
they’ll never meet?

Show me a hand
filled with keys.
The doors must fail.
The people must be free.

Posted in Essay, Poetry, sacred poetry, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Foreign Languages

I am condensing,
taking the shape
of monoliths.
Standing in the center
so that she has
somewhere
to walk in circles
when she needs
to walk in circles.
This is
as ancient a religion
as any…
when they need water
will you have a full cup?

Dancing feet
now set
in concrete.
Flights of fancy
locked
in the hangar.
Sailing ship
wearing grooves
in a bleached dock.
I will wait this out
not because I can…
but because
someone
must.

And when you are
the only one left-
that’s you.

I seek to be the place
where they go
to see
themselves.

That’s what parents do.

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What If

We paved the land
over…we had to.
Where else would the cars go?
Without shoes
we couldn’t walk
on gravel
so we must
make
more
shoes.

Every city must clean
the water…before
it feeds it back to the people
who made it dirty.

Everything has a
price…it must.
How else will the money be spent?
Without prices…all we have is paper
and round metal tablets
that mean nothing
to anyone.

Someone makes
the “more” that you have.
If you aren’t one of them
then you don’t really know
what you’re paying for…
but they can’t forget
the way we can…
having “more”
tends to do that
to the human heart.

Who does what they love
for money?
No one would.
So we turn it around
and say
“do what you love
and the money will follow”…
But what if what you’d love
is for there to be
no money?
We think it’s like the Earth
and moon
or oceans and tides…
How can you have what you love
if money doesn’t buy it?
It’s an argument
that only burns
at the end of slavery.

Time is an angel’s dream.
It’s what happens when God
thinks about clocks.
It’s a pocket of space
where we can move slow
enough
to learn something.
Time is a place
small enough
to make us suffer
for otherwise
we don’t know how to…
there’s no physical location
upon which
a lesson can land.

What if we found out
that we come here
again
and again
as an answer to a prayer
we made
to be born?
What if God
is always answering us
from both sides
of the veil
between here
and there?

What if
I am only saying
“what if”
to placate the undecided?

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