Into the Wilderness

Continue to look through the Complacency
created by Ache-Covering Consumerism and
Beyond the Announcements that offer Delights 
for All Ages while the Big Imperative roots
around in commercial Offerings caught
between the First Half of Life and the Last Step
into the Tomb where all wait in Hope
for some Miracle to motivate Modern Man
to leave Nothing below and Go willingly
into the Wilderness.

Cravings

I said, "It is our cravings that best
postulate the divine."

She said, "My, my, look who awoke
as a theologian this morning."

I said, "And underneath desire for
fulfillment are the wants and needs that
I accumulated from my dreams."

She yawned, "I prefer the simple
upward look to the skies at night
to feel what I am missing and 
what I yearn for."

I asked, "Are you suggesting that the
very idea of God is not a miracle of
our own thought?"

She answered, "Yes and no and I am
thinking of how wonderful it will be 
to fill this space with the smell 
of cinnamon rolls."

“How is it that you have contrived this deed in your heart?” – Acts 5:4

Giver of all blessed thoughts
both helpful and cursed,
our cravings eat us up;
feed us a new way; for
in our emptiness we acquire
what is not our own and
hold it close to what we think
is our heart; and the pounding
we feel is not the beat of life
but the sound of our own steps
running away from our chance 
to become holy.
Amen.

Surrounded by Sunlight

Tears dropped in the wilderness
clear a space for the fertile craving
to return home.

Not much changes from year to year;
perhaps the peace of some small movement
into what used to be a dark space surprises us.

We ask, What was that all about?  A time
for suffering to mark all suffering in the desert?

Our gifts create temptation and 
there is a difference between
being loved and loving and looking
at a loved one standing beyond the
bright surrounding sunlight.

Cautious Steps

I return to writing these poems
not knowing what words mean;
written in journals decades old
or unveiling themselves new
on even brighter screens.

I do know that I disagree
with the notion that birth
is an exile from some
culminating experience
meant to last into the infinite.

Is G*d any less of a G*d
after the death of anyone?

Or, do the dance steps of the G*ds
become more frenzied as a birth nears?

I pause in my walk and count
those tender sounds tapping out
the letters to the word
c-a-u-t-i-o-n.

Woven Tears

Feelings of the adversary weave tapestries
in unknown colors throughout history
only to be displayed on museum walls
as tales remembered from another time.

The Master wishes to continue life
tomorrow before the sun rises advancing
the match begun the day before where 
the black and white pieces on the board
make up a fragment of the landscape.

Many prayers said in the same room yearn
for peace and warmth to become immanent
and for laughter to grow at the laughter
of others regardless of chosen contexts.

Life would be easier if the unknown uncovered
itself from tirelessly sleeping under a thin
blanket covering sameness and oneness
threatening all with an assortment of exiles
where tears become a craving to return home.

I Believe

I said, "I believe in my beliefs shaped by the path 
I have walked between mountains and across 
meadows."

She looked up from her book and said, "What
have you been reading so late into the night?"

I said, "The pinched nerve in my neck is killing
me so I have been reading about near-death
experiences."

She said, "Perhaps you should dwell on more
than the single-mindedness that results from
a maddening pain."

I said, "Can't you see that I am seeing crooked
holding my neck at a precarious angle to life
the whole day long?"

She said, "Come.  Lay your head on my breast
so that you fit with me exactly how you are 
and I will ease your pain."