Evolution

Sun rising

flinging green fire

on flashing leaves

as birds flit

and call to each other

ancient songs of  

lust, warning,

hunger.

In twisting architecture

they rise,

sure-footed, fleet of wing,

fearless,

while below I stand,

neck craned,

stiff with gazing.

Back to my room,

I go - back to

my comfortable cave,

my simian

roots.

(19 June 2011)

Royal Presidio Chapel, Monterey California

Pelicans fly at dawn, 

Heavy, unsure of the wind, 

Their hungry cries piercing the sky

Fiercely searching receding waves. 

Ancient sorrow lingers here, 

The stunned saints with fading stigmata

Painted dimly into ever-falling shadow. 

Our Lady of Sorrows wears a black mantilla. Her

cold, glimmering hands clench 

The lace handkerchief Maria Antonia brought. 

Our Lady of Solitude pierces my soul, 

Her face shining forth from layers of death, 

Her astounding eyes glittering with living anguish.

(15 March 1979)

Photograph

We must know the truth, and we must love the truth we know. Thomas Merton

On her way to the big dance

my sister patiently waits

for the camera to click.

Her dress is white,

her slender fingers wrapped in

tight, petite gloves,

while top to bottom,

in her brilliant hat and polished shoes

grasping the patent handbag

she glows, so cool

in the autumn sun.

Carefully posed,

her little brothers cluster.

The oldest, just fooling around,

grins slyly

waves his

Lone Ranger cap gun.

The smart boy,

just down the step,

holds his hands in his jacket pocket,

and confidently smiles

for the camera.

But the little one stands apart

in a forest of shifting knees,

close to the ground

steadied by her strong hand.

Mother's long arm

reaches far down

to his slight shoulder,

and her power

still towers above them all

wrapping them in her

safe embrace.

(22 May 2012)

fog conceals

fog conceals

winter dark streets

but gently reveals

her tears, her

cold, soft hands,

my mother’s hands

rising from

the waters,

from the fog.

(9 December 2014)

Lost Soul

“Just as it is impossible for a man to see his face in troubled water, so too the soul, unless it be cleansed of alien thoughts.” Thomas Merton

Soul without light
he screams in anger,

curses his mother
for carving his dying flesh
from her course blood.

His darkness is complete.

He will not see
the sun
though it streams golden
through his open
door.

A prisoner,
he can only gaze
on blighted shade; he cannot stray
beyond the constrained
cell of his narrow
self.

(11 March 2011)