Small Steps Ahead

When I rose to greet

the day, I needed a

hoodie against the

cool of morning.

I re-laced my boots with 

new strings realizing I spend 

so little time with these 

dear friends - thanking them. 

I sat at desk to make my 

map for the expanse of light 

that spread before me 

that would become my day.

I picked up words that had

been left out the night before

and placed them in homes

they would need for wholeness.

I placed delight in my pocket,

and thanks in my boot.  I found

a small space above the fridge

for gratitude - after I dusted.

It was clear that joy belonged

in my sock drawer and wonder

on the mantel just next to

the candle smelling of blueberries.

Hope belonged next to the poems

of Rumi, and awe just inside the cover

of Heschel.  Beauty I tucked behind

the ear of my beloved as she slept.

I was so blessed to have noticed

these simple incompletenesses

from yesterday that would need 

my attention before my walk.

A small way of carrying what I was 

given onto yet another path stretching 

out from my here and now - one more 

mile, a few more small steps ahead.

Another tidying up of my amazement

at being here again, fresh and alive.

A chance again to hide love just on the 

inside of my pinky ring this new day.

Wish to Remain

I do not want

to leave here

I only wish here

to remain.

Abiding in the 

shelter and also

in the shadow

of the Most-

High; the Almighty.

Smoored together - 

side by side -

with all the

scattered embers

of the One.

In the Silence

Whisper.

Whisper.

Whisper,

in hushed and breathy

tones.  The song from 

all the ages, the 

song that calls us 

HOME.

For Zoe

I guess it’s time to stop thinking of you as small; with tiny features and oh so tiny hands that I can place in mine and cover to protect.   Soon it will be time for you to shelter my aging hands in yours - pleasantly reversing the tides of time.

I guess it is time to stop expecting you to tell me of your teas with Piglet and with Pooh. Time instead to listen to new ways you are trying to approach your career and new ways your are looking for extending family bonds.  

I don’t hear your faint giggle anymore, the one you would have given when your days were young and free.  But I know I’d love your laughter now.  I am sure.  It’d be silent at first and then really loud.  Stopping me dead in my tracks.

I don’t look for times to cook plastic eggs in plastic pans on tiny stoves anymore.  It’s just I’ve stopped thinking about you and food - never really having sat knee to knee.  I think you would probably hate to cook, just so I could do it for you when you’d stop by.  

I can’t tell you why I’ve never written this before, but it is high time Zoe Alexandra.  Twenty eight years is too long to go without a Valentine from your dad!  All those things we never had, we had them in our hearts.  We held them there in trust.  

I’ll do better with the Valentine’s from here on out.  It’s just taken this long to say these words to our daughter who left at Valentine’s

Love you for always,

Dad

Social Cues

I turned the car away                                                 from where we had been                                        going to; 

away so we might

hear the bells a little longer 

and better 

than we could 

from where we were - 

where we had been going.

It dawned on me we have 

lost our ways of social knowing; 

our holding of a thing 

in common while not directly 

near each other or within

the sight of our eyes.

The bells rang on for a

time far beyond my expectation,

some hymns played three 

complete verses.  I was shocked

enough to find a church whose

bells were ringing let alone one

that played on for twelve minutes.

Remember the days when we 

all took in common and similar 

events?  Bells of churches and

schools, sirens on Saturday at 

noon.  Whole communities set

to celebrating feast days and

holidays alike, clustered in their

neighborhoods and cultural

divides.  Not a bad gathering

by kind, but one to ease the burden

of unspoken language or 

misunderstood social cues.

A way of making and securing

Bonds with them who understand - us.

Algorithm of the Soul

Everything is spun out

of algorithms today.

Efficiencies mined

at high velocity

from gaping chasms 

of data and information.

One iterative distraction 

after yet another,

 bubbling up from

the mire of well

honed search engine

samplings and stored 

memories of every key

stroke - somehow the

shadowy actions of 

our very selves.

And yet, the soul,

her algorithm leans 

into a more focused

rendering.  A simple

movement from

there to here, from

agitation to stillness,

from turmoil to rest.

Not attempting to predict

on the vast consumption

of endless code and 

wire frames, but by a

centering down into

a oneness within.

A gathering into a

core; a rooting itself 

in the stability and

the motionlessnes

of identity.  A 

discernent that arises 

from a waiting, and 

a connection that

comes from a watching.  

A discrimination that 

emerges out of a 

silence and a

homeostatic sense

the everything -  and 

she means EVERYTHING - 

belongs.

The Bench of Worship

 How pleasant still 

the day doth rise 

from simple, seated bench.

From here inside 

this heart of mine, 

the spirit ne’er to quench. 

And yet tomorrow 

all again, I’ll 

hunger all the more 

for what I found 

today within 

no manna may be stored.