I walk on debris,
The detritus of expectations.
I gather fragments to make kintsugi dreams,
Toss them in the air, and watch them come crashing down.
They add to the rubble underfoot.
Thus it has always been. Thus it continues.
I laugh with delight.
Tag: poem
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Integument (Poem For Feb 23-PouncePunk Art Challenge)
This fragile skin encloses us all.
A tender veil of different hues shelters each from harm.
Pierce it, and the results come regardless of appearance.
A common membrane ensures our well-being.
And yet. This also defines us.
We do not see another living being that is just like us.
We focus on the myriad manifestations of this mortal wrap.
You are this because. I am that because. We are not alike.
Judgement and separation. We have built our world hence.
Can we learn to undo this? To realize our selfsameness?
Remake the swords of disconnection into ploughshares of compassion.
Remove the veil of ignorance that prevents clear sight.
Everyone and all things shine with the same pure light.
Teach your children well.
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Abstractus (Poem For Feb 22-PouncePunk22)
What do we take from our daily experience?
The constant barrage of information, be it correct or not,
Loudly demands we pay attention.
Rather than fostering any noetic pause for processing,
This noise by design fuels ongoing addiction
To strong emotion, usually of a negative character.
We need regulation to combat this, both societal and individual.
Let us learn to become responsible, not merely responsive.
We are both curators and creators of our inner world.
This cannot be separated from the outer.
How then shall we choose to live?
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Body (Poem For Feb 20-PouncePunk22)
I once disdained my corporeal being,
Viewing it as just an unfortunate shell.
The important me, the real me, was solely my mind.
As I’ve gotten older and perhaps a bit wiser,
I’ve come to appreciate this tangible form.
No mere vehicle to house my essential nature,
But a vital and requisite necessity for identity and action.
The body gives rise to the mind; the mind informs the body.
I no longer despise what it offers, including sensations of pain.
Instead I embrace all I experience, for this constitutes who I am.
And with gratitude, I offer thanks.
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Written On My Hand (Poem For Feb 19-Pouncepunk22)
Written on my hand
Find the stories of my life.
Passages from infant to child to adult to elder.
With multicolored inks, myriad scripts, and various languages.
Changes detailed in wondrous words
Unseen unless you care to look.
I carry these always.
Occasionally they find their way into plain view.
Bleeding onto poems and tales.
Even flavoring cups of tea.
(Kindness tastes of honey.)
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Stillness & Movement (Poem-PouncePunk Art Challenge)
How to find a still mind?
Try being aware of movement,
The ever-flowing change that is always occurring.
Take the body, for example.
Even in the midst of the deepest meditation or dreamless state,
There are infinite shifts taking place.
Cells replace themselves; breath moves in and out; the heart beats; and so on.
Similar processes happen across the physical world,
From the most minute particles all the way to vaster aspects of slow relentless geologic change.
Accepting this impermanence with equanimity
And relinquishing the notion that this will stop in any way
Provides a space to relax and rest with a sense of ease.
This will also evolve but observe with detachment.
Nothing (and everything) lasts forever. This need not cause suffering.
Find the path to peace and joy.
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A Horror Story (Poem-PouncePunk Art Challenge)
This is a true story. It actually happened to me.
I was much younger at the time, which is neither here nor there.
Bedbugs invaded my residence. How? I never knew.
This is still a mystery, as my home adjoined no other abode.
I suspect I unwittingly imported them via mail but don’t know.
While I had the house treated, I went to a cheap motel.
I awakened the next morning with familiar bites.
The room (and the entire motel) was similarly infested.
Wherever you go, there you are. Changing places doesn’t always change circumstances.
A valuable lesson, indeed.
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Drink Me (Poem-Feb 12 PouncePunk Art Challenge)
I sat in deep meditation and then.
I fell through a rabbit hole.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a bottle labeled “DRINK ME.”
I noted the beautiful label and examined it.
It smelled of cherry-tart, custard, and hot buttered toast.
I was tempted by this intriguing offer but hesitated.
A fierce rabbit appeared with a ticking watch and a mala.
I heard the deep tone of a singing bowl and awakened.
I see through the delusions of Mara.
Poisons often come in pleasant forms.