Hallway to Nowhere

  • She Wanted My Heart (Poem)

    Once, long ago, she wanted my heart.

    I gave her a cup of tea and a poem.

    She tied a cord of red thread around my wrist

    And wept before she left.

    What did that mean?

  • Bodhichitta Heart (Poem)

    Do not ask for my heart; I have already given it.

    Freely; willingly; with abandon. To you, yes, but also to:

    The friend who calls from a distant land;

    The neighbor who visits over the fence;

    The postman who offers a friendly wave;

    The stranger who walks down the street.

    For these and many others, I have cast my devotion and regard,

    Wanting each to be happy, at ease, free from suffering, and joyful.

    So again, do not ask for my heart.

    Know that you have it already and help spread it through the world.

  • The God of the Doorway (Poem)

    Now is a good time to reflect upon deities

    And who we will decide to worship, and why?

    We all have idols, numerous ones,

    Acknowledged or not,

    So it behooves us to choose wisely.

    I would suggest liminal beings,

    For we are on the threshold in many ways,

    Looking backwards and stepping forward.

    We need divinities that speak to transition,

    Enable us to handle change and be not afraid,

    And move from warring with each other to peace,

    Gods and goddesses that do not compete for supremacy,

    Nor encourage us to do so,

    But instead work for the betterment of all existence

    And inspire us to do likewise.

    I know who I think upon: to whom do you pray?

  • Early Morning (Poem)

    I walk outside before dawn

    To breathe in the quietness of this time

    And watch the clouds move across the moon.

    All is cast in tones of gray and shadow,

    And there is a sense of abeyance,

    A momentary hush,

    As if the world has taken a brief pause

    For meditation and reflection.

    Soon enough the sky will fill with the colors of morning,

    And the sounds of the day will begin.

  • Rivers Of Hades

    Five rivers traverse Hades, the underground.

    You think you get to choose; mind you, you don’t.

    We all have to cross each river alone at some point.

    For this poem, ponder this:

    Which rivers would you enter, and for what reasons?

    The River Styx, the River of Hate, allows you entrance to the underground. Take care.

    Charon can ferry you through the River Acheron, the River of Pain, but you always have to pay.

    Travel the River Cocytus, the River of Lamentation, with an open heart. Consider others’ suffering.

    We all drink from the River Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness, in some fashion. Be aware.

    The River Phlegethon, the River of Fire, can destroy your hubris. This is not a bad thing.

    Remember you journey with gods, lost souls, and powerful currents.

    Think wisely; take a deep breath; and begin.

  • Preparation (Poem)

    Interaction does not come easily.

    Every conversation takes place in a foreign language.

    I make notes beforehand,

    To remind me what to ask and how to do so.

    I practice and rehearse

    And remember past exchanges.

    This is not because I do not care.

    I make this effort precisely

    Because I care indeed.

    But I remain a foreigner in this human terrain

    And find the ground often shifts in unpredictable perplexing ways.

  • What I Choose (Poem)

    “SO EVEN THOUGH WE FACE THE DIFFICULTIES OF TODAY AND TOMORROW,

    I STILL HAVE A DREAM”.

    I look around me to see

    The empty spaces once filled by all we’ve lost:

    People gone; land destroyed; dreams themselves dying,

    And wonder can we bear this cost?

    But I also pause to hear

    The many voices that sing out a common song:

    Notes of lamentation, but woven with threads of laughter and hope,

    And remember that love remains strong.

    There can be all manner of destruction and devastation,

    But I will not forget the outstretched hands, the kind acts, and the courage of community.

  • Skeletons (Poem)

    We are all living with rattling skeletons

    That come to us from multiples lives.

    (Not just our personal one but those of the different spaces we inhabit-

    Land, religion, culture, gender, species and countless other such.)

    The question becomes,

    What do we do with these and all they represent?

    Some choose to acknowledge them,

    Make friends, and even dance.

    Others pretend not even to see their existence,

    Or stuff them in the cellars to shift and creak.

    Many spend their years running in fear

    From the certain voice (deep within)

    That we are all speeding towards a mirror.

    And when we gaze into this, we will see?

    Skeletons gazing back.

    Have you learned to dance yet?

  • Conversation With My Father (Poem)

    I ask him,

    “Why did you not tell me

    The happenstances of getting older?

    That the months and years would steadily speed,

    While the amount of time and energy

    Needed for any one task would increase?

    Or that the ability to dance would diminish but never the desire?”

    He replies,

    “You remember, surely, that I never had the chance to learn these things.

    I died a younger man than you have been for many years.

    So you are indeed solitary on this journey,

    Though I tried to give you what tools I could.”

    I smile and take his hand.

    “As long as I can remember you, I am not alone.”

  • Farewell (Poem)

    I shook the gossamer web of our connection

    Gently as a feather lands.

    Despite my efforts, you heard a roar

    Louder than thunder

    And felt the percussive tremors

    Of a violent quake.

    I do not know how to communicate with you.

    My words fall into a well of silence.

    I hear no echo, no return, and have no way

    To gauge their impact.

    For your sake and for mine,

    I will no longer navigate this darkened terrain.

    You have no more need for these invisible walls.

    I wish you all happiness.