goddess #35

here, amongst puddingstone boulders

bordering VFW parkway

i think of ben, soon off to afghanistan.

and tack, a man with twinkling eyes

and a smile that lit up the world

haunted 40 years later

by the things he saw in the jungles of vietnam.

and another

who i shared my life with for a few short weeks so many years ago,

who woke shaking in the night

from dreams of war.

to all who go to war, willing or unwilling

may you be safe in body and mind.

may you neither kill nor be killed.

may you neither maim nor be maimed.

may you remember that those you fight are no different than you

that they, like you, want only for themselves and their loved ones

be safe, happy, and to be able to live peacefully on this earth.

goddess #34

jagged rocks,

barely worn over eons of time.

water moving past mossy bank,

swift, then slow, then swift again.

everything growing, falling, decaying, growing again.

everything noting the passage of time on its own scale.

rock, tree, human, mosquito -

life measured in an instant or an eon,

all precious, all impossibly brief,

all just enough.

goddess #33

i've been dreaming

of things taken away

and been surprised at the 

anger that has arisen 

in this dreaming self.

this morning i seem to understand better

this Kwan Yin behind barbed wire.

Pouring compassion for all of us humans

who want to let go

and yet build fences.

"may all being be free of craving and the roots of craving"

goddess #32

I walk the Fens

this gentle spring morning

pondering questions of art and power

. . . then sitting on the bank

trees greening and blooming

listening to a symphony of birds

questions dissolve . . .

and all that remains 

are sunshine, song, and the touch of the breeze.

may all beings arrive in the present moment . . .