In All Our Years

Practicing love and kindness for all.

Category: Poetry

of Land and Sea

Water has been part of my life for longer than I can remember. From the rocky coasts of North America … Nova Scotia, Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island and along the eastern seaboard, into the Carribean.

As I experienced these locations, these boundaries of land and sea, I found strength on their shores, testing the fact that I did not have gills and trusting my ability to hold my breath as I ventured into the waters.

As I witness the most active volcano in the world on the Big Island of Hawaii (Kilauea), I can only imagine the feelings each of the residents of this region are going through as the place they call home, dissolves into the ocean.

And I realize that this loss is just one of many for our species, the ones who tempt the boundaries of land and sea.

And I realize that nothing is permanent … not even rocks-

The ones we can walk on-

The ones we can skip along the salty shores-

… and the ones we love…

who do not have gills after all,

but wished they did.

 

Be the Earth for Another

The seed enters the earth dry and alone.
The soil welcomes the visitor as part of itself, unaware of what is to be.

Days and nights trickle by and soon there is a stir and a wiggle.

The soil is loosened and massaged in a way that welcomes water and air.

The sun pours down, through the darkness and calls to the seed, to sprout, to rise and find its way through and back into the light above. The seed entrusts the earth to hold its feet securely and firmly, so it may explore the space and experience the rain and wind and life above.

There is a great harmony in this relationship, where two very different things come together to make another. Another that will create all that we see … all that will nurture and give of itself … willingly and without require but simply to live, breathe and one day, become the one … who held it close, kept it warm and safe from the start.

 

a Tattoo

is the ultimate expression onto the canvas of your life,
displaying the visual of who or what you care for,
showing the world what excites you.

is a flare when you are lost at sea,
and deep inside … do want to be found.

cradles that which you love,
when out of reach-

embeds them in the canvas of your life,
immortalizing their thoughts, their colors-

holds them as close to you as can be-
knowing clear well that nothing lasts forever,
but you can … every waking day,
imagine that perhaps it does.

 

but Perhaps

It will have been a decade later this year,

since I have seen him, heard his voice, hugged him …

He is living his life in his own way,

and I am so very proud of him …

As his father, I fostered his independence,

both of us (his parents) did actually …

I hope that one day we will come together again,

and he will tell me of his adventures, his life …

Perhaps in a time, a place,

I cannot say-

but … Perhaps


~ this one written a few decades ago, when he was close ~

This Little Guy

 

On the Beach

Your stillness mattered most, amidst the threat of driving rains.

I had slept the night, soundly, safely- not a threat that I could feel or see, remembering you resting there next to me.

The soft raspy sounds of water on the shore, slowly waking me from the night, the place where there was neither song nor flight, just me.

As my eyes opened, I began to see- you were no longer there next to me. Perhaps in my thoughts, you were, but not for real, not today- not for a long time since.

Without much thought or breath, I rose and left the comfort of my stay, and journeyed out to start the day.

The sun barely visible along the span of ocean and air, I walked toward the shore.

Without a soul in sight, bar one solitary bird, its feet planted in the sand, its gaze to me, across the remains of the night. It waited.

In short time as air swooned me toward, I found myself there, within reach of the small bird. It was not afraid of my approach or that now I could easily touch it.

Its eyes looked deeply into mine, not seeing around me but into me as if it knew my plight, my struggles from the night.

The bare of my feet joined the birds as the water flowed over them, sinking them deeper into the soft sand, the shells- the stones.

I knelt and reached for the bird, the wind rustled its feathers as it tucked its wings closer to its heart, awaiting my touch, my grasp, my hands on the full of its body.

I gently picked it up and pulled it close to my chest, the place she used to rest, with me, silently, softly, the many nights that had long since slipped away.

I stood up, tall and free, lifting the bird up from the beach, the sun starting to peek a bit more, lighting the shore.

I breathed, it breathed. We looked out to the sea, not a care in the world, just the two of us then- in this place, the all of it for us to be.

The little bird spoke, “You were kind to me.”

“Yes, you were so deserving of the love we shared.”

And then with my feet shared between us, we started toward the rising sun.

The morning strengthened. The light now ample for all to see. More life appeared.

One then two, people and birds, crawly things from small holes in the sand, sounds from the land of those wanting to be on the beach too.

Our pace slowed as we approached a small pool. It had formed from the mix of currents that found their way to the land, to the beach, moving the sand, the sand that was beneath my feet.

I stopped.  The small bird looked again into my eyes and then wiggled out of my arms into the pool of water. The little bird floated without care or plan, I followed with feet and hands, lowering myself into the ocean alongside it.

We floated there for a while.  The tide wandered in. The pool grew larger until it was- no more, the ocean all around us now.

The heat of the morning, calling for us to drink fresh water. The little bird looked at me, knowing I could not stay, nor it for long, not today.

And before calm or thought, without warning or farewell, the little bird flew up and away, to where it did not tell.

I watched it fly full and free. The light shining on us both now, the bird up in the air leaving … in the water, close to shore and the endless land, just me.

I turned my gaze away and walked from the wet, the dry welcoming me as before, until then perhaps when I would return some other day, to be, on the beach.

OnTheBeachPT

as it Seems

Everything is as it seems.

The secret to a harmony is discovering this
in the barrage of misconceptions that surface
in the quest to change that which is … is.

Change is possible in the collaboration
of those who understand this.
It is this understanding
where seams become
one with the other.

Everything is as it seems.

love me as … I​ Love You

I have enjoyed everything ever desired and needed and am grateful beyond words. Through my own choices when seeking clarity in all that was around me, I lost all but self.

During my reflection in those times, I discovered these simple words which I found to be explanatory to what was needed. They were healing, albeit challenging for self as much as for the ones I loved. Even so, I decided to live fully by them, giving such love to all I would meet, not in hope of returns, but simply, to extend fully- unconditional love.

“Love me without fear
Trust me without questioning
Need me without demanding
Want me without restrictions
Accept me without change
Desire me without inhibitions
For a love so free…
Will never fly away.”

– Dick Sutphen

The finale of his words is the challenge. “For a love so free… Will never fly away.” A love so free is all each of us desires; To be accepted as we are, to be needed- to be loved.

The final sentence, is the hope, the reward, the tell in the request. It is; however, not a guarantee or a sure thing, but the relationship that arrives when each of us embraces the meaning, sincerely, with the all of who we are.

May each of us discover this love in ourselves and those we love,

forever and a day.

the Love of Rain

There are times we found ourselves-
waiting for the train,
when in fact the love of rain-
is all around us.

She is not with form or substance-
unless held by another,
or when gathering together-
in a lake or ocean.

And all the while
when low or down-
upon the ground,
the silence of sunlight
draws her back to the sky the above-
… to travel and dance …
… and mist and snow …
into a place beyond-
which we would never know-
if not for the love of rain.

if not …
for the Love of Rain.

 

 

Into the Open

I woke one morning and wandered into the open and gazed toward them. They stood still and tall, not a care in view, one or two peering back toward me, the one with feet. I stood for a moment, feeling their gaze, the air, the light and moisture on my face and hands.

They turned back toward the light, the sunrise, their source of energy, and life. Quietly welcoming the new day, roots planted firmly, deeply, growing, into the earth below.

I wandered toward them, toward the eastern light. A rustling of branches and leaves giving song and welcoming me to step into their home, the forest of friends and family, children and grandchildren, and those now long since turned into soil.

The birds had been awake for some time now, chirping and fussing of this and that. One noticed my approach and looked down at me as I stepped onto the forest floor and began walking on the plane below. The winged creature, clearly able to navigate this world in a third dimension with ease and without assistance from another, questioned my survival.

The tree does not have a name. Man may call it by one because of the way it looks and grows and is, but it does not know this. The tree does not have a name for man. It knows only that some do harm and some do not … even still, in the moment, there is no judgment in the gathering of tree, of man or bird- We are simply together, roots planted, feet still, the birds claws, clutching a branch or twig.

As the sun continued it’s morning journey, life continued to percolate, leaves breathed in and transpired, birds stepped into the air, rose and swooped, looking for food. The roots of the trees twitched and stretched, seeking water from a day before. I looked up in marvel and breathed gently the precious breezes of life.

As I stood, in the majestic of their home, I found the strength and agility to challenge the little bird’s question. I approached one of the giants, a calm and secure one, with limbs low and in reach … and stepped into her… Waiting Tree

 

“It was an uncertain Spring.”

“It was an uncertain spring.”
is the first sentence from Virginia Woolf’s last novel,
“The Years”.

It is actually so, an uncertain spring for many of us. Even with, the promise of warmer days and comfortable nights, there is the chance, seeds will not rise from their rest.

We can only hope, and with our motion, commotion and efforts toward our dreams, we will see the uncurling of our soft tender bodies rise and bloom toward the sun.

And we will, appreciate their beauty and marvel in the “uncertain spring” that was before us and we will love.

Virginia did feel her 59th spring, although cold that fateful March day. She loved and was loved. The following are her last words to the one she loved and the one who loved her dearly, in the way he was able to.

“Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.”

May the spring of your life
bring you closer to the ones you love,
and the ones that- love you.

Spring

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