TRUTH

In one of the kingdom’s royal castles,
falling out, my soul separates
from my body, unwilling,
unable to move,
but light flowing, holding fast.
Cracked windows patched with tape,
dull blue-gray skies,
hills in the distance,
bare trees seen through mottled glass.
The black shoed,
blue jeaned,
white shirted messenger
with cocoa skin and darker eyes
who helps me;
to touch my pain,
live in the light,
walk at the edges.
Slain in the spirit
my body quakes with karmic release.
In unison with myself
once again,
I awake and find rose petals
covering my eyes.
The scent of kindness
resides in the truth.

PRAYER OF UNITY
(inspired by Psalm 85:8 and Isaiah 58:11)

The God of warm places,
of sleek herons and skittering salamanders,
lumbering manatees and agile dolphins,
give me a quiet heart
that I might see and hear
what you will show and speak to me
when I turn to you in my heart.

Gentle eyes that seek your beauty
easily find deep truths
writ large by nature’s envoys
in your sanctuary.

Deep springs of clear water
nourish the souls of those who taste
art, truth and beauty
in a single, overflowing, eternal cup.

PERFECTION

Fourteen billion
year old molecules
crashing, caroming
randomly becoming
fire, water, earth and air
heading toward
this one,
perfect morning
where truth reveals itself,
for just a moment,
to those with ancient eyes.

poem inspired by photograph taken by

(and used with permission of) James Melnychuk-

www.myspace.com/james1116

NAMASTE

Old dry eyes,
shed no tears,
words of truth,
pierce the heart,
water springs,
bubble up,
cleansing sight,
love's rebirth.

HOLY TUESDAY

The wind whips up little dust tornadoes,
the sky darkens to a colorless shade.
I never learned a whit from a good day
so now I bend my ear to hear the truth.

People rush to their homes holding their scarves
across their nose and mouth so they can breath.
A stench of betrayal seeps from the ground
revealed by the pounding of running feet.

We’re guilty but refuse to wear that name
since dirty fingers point to each of us.
Trying to get lost in the confusion
we go to our dark rooms to pray for light.

But then the sound of grackles in bare trees,
cackling since they’ve witnessed the raw truth
scare us to our knees, tripping and falling,
we pray that in our time we’ll drink His cup.

FAMILY TRUTHS

Come 'round back, dear brother,
and sit with me a spell.
You'll stare at the frozen river
and tell lies
while I ache to hear your heart.
Pass the Merlot, boy,
I can't bear to do this while sober;
your dreams, others called naïve,
used to fill me with fire and hope.
It's been a while,
do you still yearn to tell tall tales
with truths way down deep
that made us want to live, really live?
Do you still hear those stories yourself?
Or are your own tunes
stuck in that cold river
along with the songs of other brave men
who journey to seek what makes them whole?
Or, are you biding your time
'til a spring thaw and warmer sun
can free your dreams
so they'll grow once again?
Let me know you're alive,
that you still make the time
to sit and dream every day.
Then I'll turn from the river
and look in your eyes
and celebrate the Truth.