Tag Archives: Placeless

Immortal She

10
Posted by on in Inner Struggles, Personal Values, Social, Striving

March 5, 2017, Prescott-

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The wind has blustered, all day.

It blusters, still.

The water level in the reservoirs is high.

Cottonwood Peninsula is inaccessible.

Far away, across the Pacific,

a young man celebrates turning thirteen.

North of where he revels in his adolescence,

another young man, nearly sixteen years his senior,

thinks of his departed mother.

Gone six years now,

she lives on in memories,

and watches us all,

from the Placeless beyond.

I am asked,

‘Have you moved on?’

I am asked,

‘Are you not lonely?’

Behind those queries

is always the thinly veiled,

‘How about ______?’

‘What’s wrong with _______?’

The truth be told, though,

I am secure.

Other times, I may think,

‘ I have this blotch on my cheek’.

‘I’m missing a few teeth’.

I may say, under my breath,

‘I have no means to support another person’.

The truth be told, though,

I am secure.

She, the immortal spirit,

would let me know,

if my life should change.

She would let me know,

if someone waits in the wings;

just as she let me know

that she was waiting,

so many years ago.

 

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Photos are of an at-capacity Willow Lake.

Contributing

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Posted by on in Community, Family, Spiritual

December 6, 2016,Prescott-

Thirty-six years ago, today,

on a cold and rainy night,

in Zuni,

she entered my life.

It was the night of house blessings,

yet only the keenest of shamans

would have any inkling,

of what a blessing was bestowed

that very night,

upon each of the homes

we would come

to occupy together,

beginning some eighteen months,

to the day, later.

She was always contributing:

to my well-being,

to the future success of our only child,

to the growth and stamina

of every community she entered.

I recall, on our first wedding anniversary,

a wayward child in a little mining town,

dutifully handing her, a stranger,

the needle he was using to jab

people around him.

She was always contributing,

to the collective life around her.

She contributes, still,

to my well-being,

from the Placeless,

from the Timeless.

 

 

 

 

Three Verses

3
Posted by on in Personal Values, Poetry, Social, Striving

August 13, 2016, Prescott- I have a lot on my plate, so today, and for the next two days, I offer three separate topics, in verse.

No Upgrade Needed

I was blessed with the gold standard, as my son and I con

Then, she was called to the Placeless, and physically alone, I demurred.

I am in a good place, nonetheless, living in comfort, at least as I see it.

The roof  does not leak.  There are no scorpions, skittering about.

My work pays the bills, and volunteering cheers my spirit.

I see the bright blessed day, the dark, sacred night; joy, within and without.

The Universe saw fit to present me with a new car.

Collaborators, colleagues and friends, are never far.

Years back, I longed for someone special.

Her spirit lingers, tells me to fear no ill.

No upgrade is needed, whispers my Shining Star.

 

Change/Constant

Reports of our demise are premature.

The desert shimmers; the sunsets dazzle.

Cars bunch up, each morning and evening.

Ants march in unison; each looks straight ahead.

The only surprise, day by day, is what the Maestro of Chaos has to say next.

There is no surprise, coming from the Lady of Hope.

Toys sit, unused.  Children stare into screens, bemused.

Those who erred on the side of wicked find there are precious few places to lay their heads.

Dulcet dreams, though, bring my heart and mind to solace.

Each dawn rises, and warmth awakens my heart.  I find the constancy fills my spirit, no less.

Playthings; Really?

Men in hardhats, men in suits, men on furlough

Same as ever, taunts and hoots

Come from many, without a thought.

I acknowledge the lovely, the “hot”.

The mind, though, is more captivating.

The snarkiness, the challenge, the striving,

These are what I most treasure.

I had the joy, upon a time, of long conversations,

Into the night-once until first light.

She made me promise not to let our words and thoughts stray so far again.

She made me promise never, ever, to lift an unkind hand, or give voice to an injurious thought.

I kept those promises.  The goal was the golden strands of the spirit,

the Heavenly Rapunzel, letting down the cascade of coiffure,

that she and I would, hand over hand,

hand in hand, achieve the eternal,

as one soul.

Women are never playthings; partners as objects is a mindless construct.

People are not implements; viewing the Other is a means to self-destruct.