Who Are You?

If somebody asked you
what’s your story–
What would you say
What answer would you give
that’s completely unrehearsed
Without presupposition
Unconditioned
Absent any pretense
Just being–
in the gentle spring breeze
Steadying us
Yet blowing us away
Like the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine

A Theory on Life’s Questions

Take a load off
Give up the struggle–
All those weighty questions
Spinning you in circles
Sapping the life out of you

Easier said than done–
I’ve ridden those circles–
Like wild ferris wheels
Taking me round and round
Till I’m silly dizzy, then dead

Perhaps a better word is deadened–
To the real life–
The one we were born to live, and
somewhere along the line set aside–
For all our questions

I’ve a theory on questions, and that is
the universe needs them to grow
They’re fertilizer–
Helping the world evolve consciously
and yes inquisitively

Questions make children grow up, and
they kill off their innocence–
Then kids become grown ups, and their questions kill them off
Now why is that?
The universe needs a rest from our questioning

innocent eyes spotting a deer in the wildflowers

lone deer standing so very tall
amidst a patch of spring wildflowers
wearing, as they always do, long stems
and remarkable yellow-red headdresses

not a far off place, a simple place nearby
where spring makes its way past–
all the nonsense, indifferent faces
standing between you, me, and joy
transcending the imagined realities, even
the promises we hoped for as children
forgot as adults, yet
linger as ghosts in our souls

strange but it finally ends–all of it
the pretense, promises, misplaced and forgotten words
losing all effect, ultimately giving back to us
the innocent eyes that gave birth to us
those spotting the lone deer in the wildflowers

Reminding Myself at the New Year’s Beginning

A new year begins
In one sense, completely new
Different than all others
In another sense, like all the others
Peppered with unanswerable questions

On this new year’s first day
I pause, remind myself
We live in each moment
One breath at a time
Each a miracle, a blessing

Also, I remind myself
We only truly live
When we align
With what’s real inside us
That giving us our heartbeat

The world is filled with lies
The biggest one remains
The illusion of permanence
That anyone or anything lasts
Past its time

Resolutions are fruitless
Leading us astray
Causing us to miss our real lives
Those fleeting milliseconds we exist
Just tiny ripples in the universe’s eternal vastness

November Sparrow

Hear me read this poem (click here).

See the photograph inspiring this poem (click here).

So small, delicate
So full of November
That something making you
Fit perfectly into the whole
That I so desperately seek

It’s so easy for you
To be yourself
Not worrying what others think
For somehow you know
Who you are without trying

You, the November sparrow
Just happened along one day
I saw the sparkle in your eye–
The sparkle of life
As the sunlight fell upon you

There was music
No words
But life’s sweet melody
Drifting from you, through life
Touching everything about you

You make life seem so instantaneous
So there
Within reach
Approachable
Sadly believable
For all us nonbelievers

You, the November sparrow
Sitting meditatively still
Your hush overcomes me
My heart fills
Overflows with emotion

I am angered to think
That for so many years
I have hurried through November
On the way to Thanksgiving, Christmas
And all these years I have missed
The blessing of November

But for this moment
Because of you
I am filled with November
Her barren trees
Faded gray skies
Earthy browns and rust

My dear November sparrow
I thank God for you
My sweet reminder
Of November’s beauty, grace, charm
Because of you
November is a special place inside me

Hanging On

it slips away…life
between our fingers
over our laughs, cries
even our adventures

just when you think you have it
everything changes, and
there you are naked, wondering
left hanging by a thread

this is nothing new
despite some folks’ protestation
it’s always been the same
only the names change, which doesn’t matter

you will arise tomorrow
everything that was
still will be in your deepest place
hanging by a thread