out of no where
You come
dis-rupting comfort
and routine
toppling the known
and familiar
altering courses
forcing us
to begin anew
to see and be
different
You cleanse
and re-arrange
twisting us
in-side and
crying out
raising
existential questions
we’d rather run from
You will come
for each and every
one of us
at our appointed time
a surprise
out of
seeming
no where
a constant gnawing
deep within
to be fed
and tended to
through The Mouth
that did not know
its mother’s milk
suckled instead
by the middle finger
of its right hand
The Mouth that spoke
not a word
its first few years
now relentlessly demands
food
attention
silence
rarely satiated
riddled with shame
and melancholy
a downward spiral
often begins.
here, now
this time
a long breath
slowly let out
through The Mouth
gentler with the hunger
less intolerance
more patience.
“Are you homeless?”
she asked,
penetrating my self immersion.
“No, why?
I responded, a tad vexed.
“Because of your bag,”
she said,
pointing to the shopping cart
I was wheeling behind me.
“I am homeless,”
she shared.
I stopped,
emerged from my shell.
We stood
face to face
under a first quarter moon,
meeting each other.
Yolanda was her name –
engaging,
loquacious,
deeply rooted in her faith,
enamored of the Celestial Realms.
She spoke of harrowing experiences in the local shelters,
of the inconsiderate and dangerous conditions –
especially
for a woman
alone.
Just a year ago,
Yolanda had a home,
a husband,
was employed with a car.
A divorce rendered her without,
leading to her sleeping
outside
for the first time
on a frigid and blustery night.
Yolanda alluded to
grown children,
yet gave thanks
only to the kind strangers
who kept her fed
and still alive.
“I will pray for you,”
I offered humbly.
And I have,
and will continue to
pray for Yolanda
and all in our human family
on their own
out
in the bitter cold.
This is not the way it’s supposed to be!
We are each other’s keeper!
Indeed, we are each other!
When did we forget this?
No mere coincidence,
my time with Yolanda.
Divinely orchestrated,
potent seeds planted.
An assignment awaits.
Still-ness
is quiet
and slow;
a Mountain top
in lieu of
the marketplace;
blessed Solitude
chosen over
the complexities
of company.
Still-ness
is the Moon’s femininity
relative to
the Sun‘s great fiery 🔥
may we Be Stll
to know
to then act
from Heart 🙏
this place,
these people,
those words,
that feeling,
been here before.
The Benevolent Universe
slowly closing a door,
ushering in
something unfamiliar
far beyond my
imagination –
another assignment
an opportunity
to learn
to grow
to contribute
and explore
pieces of me
never seen before.
anticipation clasps the hand
of trepidation,
resistance gradually gives way
to acceptance
of a Journey
marked by the continuous
making
and then
the breaking
of bonds.
she teaches me –
my Little Niece–
a Guru from the day we met –
months into a pandemic.
she taught me
then
the feel of unadulterated Love –
startling in its immediacy and potentcy!
she continues to exemplify
curiosity and Surrendered play.
Innocence demands cultivating
patience and acceptance;
necessitates
being
there
fully
now
in Its Presence.
Innocence is exquisitely perceptive –
cannot hide for long
behind the “adult” masks.
she humbles me,
de-constructs me,
my Little Niece.
forever grateful 🙏
forever changed 🙏
“I am your husband,”
said The Mother
to The Daughter.
Not entirely an untruth,
as Mother dwells in household
with her eldest Daughter.
They share expenses
and secrets.
They are each other’s “somebody”
the unspoken priority,
the new nuclear family,
the what remains
when what was The Core
splinters off
never to return.
The Stunning Presence
you see,
that is The Illumination of Benevolence.
The Eloquence
you perceive,
that is The Expression of Benevolence.
The Care
you feel,
those are The Hands of Benevolence 🙏
Empty vessels, we can be
when we surrender –
completely –
to Benevolence’s Will.
Then we consider
everyone, all beings
no thing left behind –
abandoned
forsaken.
nineteen years
since you transitioned
to The Other Realms
no father, no more
like yesterday
when you left
in the arms of the woman you Love
on the bed of your and hers first born
a massive stroke
quickly
dramatically
graciously
commenced your way back Home
your Heart the last to go
fittingly
as It defined you
and, hence, me,
your namesake
thank you
for coming to me
in dream
recently
a rare occurrence
so cherished 🙏
you are missed
here
your Presence still felt
here
there really is no ending
simply a change to the scenery
there is no “other”
all lives are
Intertwined
a grand Lie
we are told
the myth of
individuality
of separateness
of boundaries
all illusions
we will soon see
no escaping that
sobering reality
burgeoninc 