BROKEN BODIES

Broken bodies moan in darkening streets,
the spectre of death surrounds me.
Shaken to my core, my voice is stilled
for words cannot express the heart
better than silence. A haunting wind pierces
my vain heart, clouds gather, while dirt
blinds my eyes, collects on my tongue,
stopping me cold; I listen. Choking
on tears that well up from my toes
I revel in the glory that lets me feel, really
feel I belong to this world today.
Young angels flock to my side.
I join them on their journey home.

HONORING PACHAMAMA

Dancing firelight in bright moonshadows
Releasing pain long held within.
Singing songs of ancient people,
All my relations crying out to the sky.
Holy ground provides a safe place
For smoldering fires within deep hearts
Demanding truth, trust and faith
Engendering respect for ourselves and others
This shared experience of joy and celebration,
Renewal and blessing, returning to roots
Where wisdom lies beneath our feet
Ready to burst forth in rebirth.
Heralded by holy geese

greeting the dawn of my new day.

THE UNFATHOMABLE DEPTH OF A LONG-DISTANCE FRIENDSHIP

About 5 years ago, I began an adventure, a friendship, unlike any other. I’m not a novice at friendships. Perhaps the earliest was a nearby one I developed as a toddler with another toddler who lived next door. She spoke baby Lithuanian and I spoke baby English and we seemed to get along famously, or at least that’s what our parents told us.

About a half-century later (why do I insist on going for those big poetic phrases?!), John and I met in Santa Fe, New Mexico. We were attending a weeklong workshop on Spiritual Writing. During registration, I found myself as the rare man in a maelstrom of people. I quickly scanned my class registration sheet and my eyes alighted on John’s name – whew! Now burned into my brain, I began my crusade to find the “Hello, I’m” tag that matched that name.

Tall, Ken-doll good looking with a Southern drawl – nothing, absolutely nothing in common with me, except that glass of Merlot he had in his hand. Noting his home town as being in Colorado, I sidled up to him interrupting a conversation already in progress, introduced myself and
quickly exited with a brief… “See you in class tomorrow.”

Some form of energy shifted in me about 10 years ago replacing a shy introverted guy with a sometimes loud extrovert. Seems that extrovert is encouraged to reveal himself when traveling to places where there’s a good chance he’ll meet people he’ll never see again in his life and who won’t be able to embarrass him with their remembrances of his past indiscretions. And so the table was set for the literal and figurative “bigger than life” Rich to take the stage.

Despite my “over-the-top” antics, John and I found some common ground. We took meals together, had long conversations, discovered some amazing commonalities and generally laid the foundation for a friendship that would last long after we left Santa Fe.

God Bless the Internet! There is hardly a workday that goes by without John and me checking in with one another in one fashion or another. It could be an item in either of our blogs (or even an embarrassing revelation from John’s wife’s blog, like the one where his daughter talked about his sexy butt!). We just feel the need to touch base. Sometimes corresponding about some silliness or other; other times confessing things that we can only confess to one another. Despite our infrequent face-to-face conversations, I always feel as if I am always just picking up the conversation wherever it was just left off. There is an ebb and flow, a natural rhythm that has taken over that just feels organic.

Recently, John had a business trip to Chicago that provided him with a little downtime that we could share together over a meal and a drive around the city. During our time, I was a little concerned about big silent places in our conversations. It seemed as if we’d run out of things to talk about. After a little silent reflection, I came to realize that silence is the deep place where friends let friends rest in each other’s company.

ENCOUNTERS - SOUNDS

…while my head was gently placed by purposeful hands on an overstuffed down pillow. His hands softly brushed over my eyelids, encouraging me to close my eyes for a while. I listened closely for a clue to what would happen next. But the thief of time abducted my sense of place. I neither saw nor felt, neither heard nor smelled. When I eventually opened my eyes, he was still there sitting next to me on the bed – still buck naked – with one hand on the bed to prop himself up while with the other he stroked my hair, finger-combing the ash-colored shock that covered my now wrinkled forehead. Once again, I gazed upon his face and then I focused on his eyes. For the first time I sensed that we were both ready to speak.

My lips parted and I surprised even myself when I quietly asked, “Why naked?”

He answered by asking, “Why clothed?”

I slightly shrugged, then nestled in, as I heard another voice, this time inside my head say, “Welcome home!”

Those were the last words I heard.

Those were the first words I heard.

The End

ENCOUNTER - SMELLS

Lifting my hand, he placed it firmly against his cheek and closed his eyes. This moment gave me the opportunity I’d hoped for as I deeply searched his face. His skin appeared thick and well-weathered, perhaps you’d call it leathery. But yet, my hand sensed a softness that belied my first impression. My sneak peek was over as quickly as it had begun as he slowly opened his now glimmering moist eyes. As he let go, my hand gradually dropped from the side of his face and landed in his lap where it soon found a home in his left hand. His right hand then reached for my left which he hefted over his right shoulder. He smiled. And so did I. Suddenly, my head became heavy and my neck felt unable to bear its weight. I let my head fall against that shoulder where I took a whiff of his red, goose-fleshed neck. We held one another once again, but this time I felt enveloped in a familiar world of touch and smell where I longed to stay a long time. My head shifted slightly with each breath and fell again into a crook worn down, I was sure, just for me. The smell of freshly laundered sheets that had been dried in the sunshine overwhelmed me. Soon I found myself wrapped in the luxury of that smell while my head was gently placed by purposeful hands on an overstuffed down pillow.

(to be continued...)