Barefoot along the dusty arroyo
above the deep painted river canyon
the brown robed Jesuits
walk in prayer.
Early morning shadows
move across the red dirt and agave.
A rabbit sits watching
the sun arc over the Sandias.
Morning rays light and warm dry chapped skin
The golden hour stirs. The blood and breath rise
Cliff swallows alarm as the falcon glides
past their home on the canyon wall.
Crackle of far off thunder foreshadows an autumn desert rain.
Hair on the skin rises.
This is where Budhha is. In this moment of hush, light, earth and sky.
Sometimes it happens this way:
a smile captures your eye
a conversation begins
You are sure you might have
known this person before
over lifetimes maybe
across space and time.
…and you have found each other again.
So when I said yes to his proposal
soon after our introduction
it really was an informed decision.
It didn’t happen in an instant.
there was a subverted history.
Our flourishing proved over time
that this was not just a momentary attraction
but that it was a reconciliation of sorts.
A fulfillment of a promise made at some unknown time.
To be together in peace and tenderness.
I wondered if there was a time when we
had done each other wrong, been unkind,
and that over lifetimes we learned,
were learning, how to let love heal us.
Change into something more than our singular selves.
There was awareness that we were more than the sum of our parts.
We learned to let each other be free.
Because it all came so easily with so much love.
What transpired was more than I could imagine, and
unmatched by anything I had ever known before or seen/experienced since.
And I realize now – it was sacred. A rarity. Something extraordinary.
Sometimes it happens that way.
But it happened to me.
We draw in the same air
But he exhales poetry.
I put my pen to paper but
He convenes with the muses.
I draw a beautiful line
But he shakes the mana from heaven.
So why do I not shrink under this shadow;
feel belittled against this greatness?
Because my gifts lay subtle in the
Heart and in the recesses of
The brain and I have the power
To bring this one to his knees
With a smile of understanding, a kiss of simple kindness
And with the ability to see him
Naked and vulnerable to the power of love.
I see her in tears too often these days.
The days that were meant for happy remembrances
on a porch with a husband
in their home, filled with decades
of life’s clutter.
But she is alone, acutely so.
In a home not her own
whose dearth of wheel-chair bound, and walker – hobbling
residents draw her into deep despair.
I think of how I have relied on this woman
in all my formative years as a pillar of strength
as the problem solver
as the comforter,
the warrior who chased bad dreams
back into the shadows.
I want to give her back
this sense of power, security, independence
and unwavering love and confidence.
I do not know where they went.
I don’t know if she knows where they went.
I cannot take away the worry.
I cannot bring back the memories of how good life is
how love is abundant and does not vanish
rather is transformed into new constellations
in new directions. She does not become less through these years…
her life has value.
there is still life to be had. Creative energy is
trans-formative. She can discover what an independent life
I feel helpless to help her. She must find her own way.
I want to say: This is life. It is for the living.
Grasp it. Run until you cannot run with it anymore.
Then you can lay down and drift into the vastness
happy to have claimed what was really yours.
What you were entitled to
and with an appreciation for how fortunate
and beautiful of a life you created and how much you
gave to this world – including life to others
and all that was uniquely you and you and singularly you.
In the dark, I hear your breathing
From miles away, my breath falls into syncopated rhythm.
There are things unsaid.
I am working hard to “not love you”.
Certainly it’s easier just to let it happen.
Lay the cards on the table.
There is nothing to be done about the response…
The outcome is not even self-determined.
It belongs to the universe, the cosmic play, whether these affections are returned
Rejected or simply ignored.
My bones are strong enough to handle any response,
Though, of course I want to be loved.
The Universe is handing out some irony here.
I request a partner who is not needy.
The Universe delivers someone who does not need me.
Like losing grasp of a dream upon waking.
Yet, in the dark, I hear your breathing, from miles away.
I am a collector of stones.
I favor the igneous granites.
Not that simple beach glass does not have its beauty.
I have a special collection dish of beach glass.
The other igneous stones,lava, pumice are also attractive,
rough and as rugged as rock can be.
I equally admire the tender basalt and sandstone,
found along the coast, worn by the water
with deep crevices and holes
yielding its shape and strength to
forces stronger than its delicate properties.
But Granite is chosen for
outdoor sculptures, architectural structures
the bases of monuments, bridges,
as well as kitchen counters, paving stone
and the memorial grave markers – obelisks, mausoleums, vaults.
Granite is igneous in make-up.
It is formed in the cooling process
of hot molten lava bubbling up to the earths surface
crystallizing as it cools.
Its formation makes it one of the most durable of stones.
Impervious to water, acids, salt and wind erosion
it is steadfast, and reliable.
Although it is the most commonly used stone, it is rare in that
its crystallization forms inwards and not outwards
as with other crystal forms, giving it a rough but even surface.
There is a complex hidden beauty to its interior structure.
It is stronger than marble –
which is smooth and hard but vulnerable
to acids in the air, salt
and ruins both in strength and beauty from common elements.
Granite holds the warmth of the sun and the smell of the earth.
When water runs over warmed granite along a river
it releases steam which fills the air with humidity
and a masculine scent.
Granites function in our lives everywhere.
The material that lies underneath our fingers at our countertops
also is the secret to holding the pyramids
together in Egypt over all these generations.
I can feel Granite’s strength when I hold it in my hand,
I sense its hidden structures and its warmth.
I hold it to my nose and drink in its scent.
It is my favorite Stone.