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Posts tagged ‘poetry’

Life Is a Garden

life is a garden, not a road
we enter and exit through the same gate
wandering, where we go matters less than what we notice

– Bokonon

Surrender

Surrender

The boat I travel in is called Surrender.
My two oars are instant forgiveness and gratitude—complete gratitude for the gift of life.
I am thankful for the experience of this life,
for the opportunity to dance.
I get angry, I get mad, but as soon as I remind myself to put my oars in the water,
I forgive.

Balbir Matbur, Heron Dance Interview (Issue 11)

Wednesday of Hope – Hope is with You

Hope  

Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
That sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all things you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.  

You cannot enter.
But you’re sure it’s there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.  

Some people say we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
These are the ones who have no hope.
They think that the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hands of thieves.

– Czeslaw Milosz

Christmas Eve – Receiving God

 

It is good for a person to receive God
Into himself or herself
And I call this receptivity the work of a virgin.

But it is better
When God becomes fruitful within a person.
For becoming fruitful as a result of a gift is the
Only gratitude for the gift.

I call such a person a wife
And in this sense the term wife is the noblest
Term we can give the soul,
It is far nobler than virgin.

Every day
Such a person bears fruit a hundred times
Or a thousand times
Or countless times
Giving birth and becoming fruitful
Out of the most noble foundation of all.

Tend only to this birth in you
And you will find there
All goodness and all consolation,
All delight,
All being and truth.

~ Meister Eckhart, OP

Wednesday of Hope – Wendell Berry’s Wisdom

When despair for the world grows in me,
And I wake in the night in fear . . .
I go and lie down where the wood drake
Rests in beauty on the water,
And the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
Who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.
I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day blind stars waiting with their light.
I rest in the grace of the world and am free.

– Wendell Berry

Wednesday of Hope – Saving Hope

Because we spill not only milk 
Knocking it over with an elbow
When we reach to wipe a small face
But also spill seed on soil we thought was fertile but isn’t,
And also spill whole lives, and only later see in fading light
How much is gone and we hadn’t intended it 
Because we tear not only cloth
Thinking to find a true edge and instead making only a hole
But also tear friendships when we grow
And whole mountainsides because we are so many
And we want to live right where black oaks lived,
Once very quietly and still 
Because we forget not only what we are doing in the kitchen
And have to go back to the room we were in before,
Remember why it was we left
But also forget entire lexicons of joy 
And how we lost ourselves for hours 
Yet all that time were clearly found and held
And also forget the hungry not at our table 
Because we weep not only at jade plants caught in freeze
And precious papers left in rain
But also at legs that no longer walk
Or never did, although from the outside they look like most others
And also weep at words said once as though
They might be rearranged but which
Once loose, refuse to return and we are helpless 
Because we are imperfect and love so
Deeply we will never have enough days,
We need the gift of starting over, beginning 
Again: just this constant good, this
Saving hope.

~ Nancy Shaffer, Instructions in Joy

Courage Not to Fear

We rise in perfect light!

We rise in perfect light!

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Sarah Williams from “The Old Astronomer to His Pupil” in Best Loved Poems of the American People