Communion

“And the deepest level of communication is not communication, but communion. It is wordless. It is beyond words, and it is beyond speech, and it is beyond concept . . . . what we have to recover is our original unity. What we have to be is what we are.” 
Asian Journal of Thomas Merton,

I see the world
as it is, as I think
itis, as I want it
to be:

bright mornings,
shimmering lawns, trees glowing
golden as night dissolves
to glaring day.

I hear mourning doves,
raucous crows, roar of lawn-mowers,
distant whisper
of traffic

and believe these prove
that I alone can end a night
of anxious dreams
with quick breath and
eyes wide open.

But one day, stepping
through terminal veils of pain,
startled, pulling back the black curtain,
in the unexpected rush of ecstasy,
I’ll discover the truth:

my never-ending
communion with
You.

Soft July

since you've been gone the days

are silent

except for the rush of wind

in our apple tree.

See how the fruit hangs

heavy, pulling low

the branches;

ready.

so I’ll wait in the shade

of soft July

and think

of you.

(9 July 2014; revised 7/29/2017)

Suisun Creek

Suisun Creek

flows

through

riparian forests.

Hungry trout ,

liquid lightning, flash

as stonefly nymphs dart

past brooding periwinkle,

blackberry groves,

exquisitely

twisting.

(25 July 2011)

The Narrow Road

The narrow road

flows down the valley,

past hedge row, vineyard, orchard,

red farmhouses and

white mansions;

their black fences are lines

defining isolation

from the grey shacks decaying

where rough life once rejoiced!

I enter our little cemetery

where you wait

for my simple gifts…..

home-grown flowers,

a prayer,

a tear.

I’ll visit again

tomorrow.

Enter the Sanctuary

Photo: Apple Tree in Spring, Steven Federle

To find love I must enter into the sanctuary where it is hidden, which is the mystery of God.

Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation:

Deep in the tangle of branch and leaf

I move to the core, to the dark shaft

that draws life up from the muddy ground

to blooms sprung to being

by the ascendant sun,

open, imbibing morning light

like new wine, drunk with love.

Here I seek You

in Your green sanctuary,

hiding, gleeful,

anxious to be found.

(14 May 2012)

Alone

“There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.”— Aeschylus 

Alone

on this 4th of July morning

the sounds of sleep,

peace surrounds me.

Birds call, content

in the gentle, warm wind

of this summer day

dedicated to remembrance.

I can see you now

when I close my eyes.

I took you to the parade!

You were just two then,

clasping my hand

as the big firetrucks rolled by!

Amazed, smiling, happy.

Perhaps later today

I’ll find some flowers

red, and white, and blue

to cover your marker

to make you smile

and take my hand.