The One Thing

“Happiness consists in finding out precisely what the ‘one thing necessary’ may be, in our lives, and in gladly relinquishing all the rest. For then, by a divine paradox, we find that everything else is given us together with the one thing we needed.”  Thomas Merton

rain

falling

tenderly

on spring grass, on leaves

bending as two mourning doves moan,

beat wide their wings and brush back the sky; falling low to

dark earth, gladly would I give it

all for a moment

in the glow

of your

eyes!

(9 April 2013)

Poet to Reader

Deep inside my silence
words glow like burning stones
plunging to dark waters.

Share with me my holy fire!
With joyful shouts,
we’ll flood the hidden rivers.

But if you leave
I cease.

My words die
without your eyes,
molder to
faded stains.

So come into my heart
and sing with me
this mystic chant!

We’ll be madmen,
hunting diamonds in the dark.

The Connecticut Effect

devastating velocity,
blood thirsty, fresh death-
dealing NRA
lies fly super-
sonic flesh thud-
ing ragged rounds
slamming into
stunned souls,
dreams
die.

(26 Feb 2013)

to the center

Photo: Brian Federle, "Night", 2014


the

beat

steady;

constant hum,

music of days to

night fading; the right note, only

song you know; sum of your days, falling, falling to night.

so

go

to the

center, to

the black place to wait

for Him. Don’t call out in fear for

there’s nobody there but you and He, so simply be

and

hear

how His song

fills your darkness with

light; smile at Him, your familiar

bright friend, and no longer will you fear your emptiness.

(23 Dec 2013)

Tahachipi

Golden heights,

dry undulations,

the etched road

flowing

to distant ridges,

to promised breakers

crashing

under the deep Pacific sky

of wide California.

Abernathy Road Roundabout

Bronze angel, strong arms

lifting the rainbow,

you stand in the center.

Our fast cars veer around

north, then east

to shop, to school,

to home

but we can’t see

what you see.

Even the truckers,

who lumber down

Abernathy Road

and enter the circle

with heady grapes

ready for press, for barrel,

for thick, green bottle

steer past you.

Our lives are scheduled over-full.

We all have

some place else to go

until unfulfilled,

we return at last

to your bright center, 

and in your embracing arms

we rest.

(16 July 2011)

Author's note:

Image: Mother Nature by Lisa Reinertson, in traffic circle at Rockville and Abernathy Roads, Suisun Valley, CA.

Angeles

Just before nightfall

your new leaves

softly sway

in the cool delta breeze,

your limbs glint

in flames of

a deeper shade

where rough trunk rises

from clambering vinca,

to violet fire.

Oh! Dance with the angels!

Dance with Lord

of the Trees!

His breath will stir you to passion,

His song will lull you

to sacred sleep. 

(22 April 2012)

Memorial

Summer

He worked nights, leaving as we climbed
the tall narrow staircase to our shared room,
up into the summer heat, the steel fan
in the hallway window
pulling cool, leafy breezes
from our waving trees.

We heard the kitchen screen-door
slap shut, the Pontiac roaring to life,
and watched as slowly he backed down
the dark driveway, and was gone.

And gladly we glided through our misty dreams,
flying over tree-tops, baseball games
and cool swimming pools,

when finally the robin’s enthusiasm
and the fresh morning sun
flashing through green leaves
woke us as we heard the car stop
and Dad call cheerfully, “I’m home!”

The air already scented with bacon and coffee,
we flew down the groaning stairs,
two steps at a bound,
and eagerly started another golden
summer’s day.


Winter

One winter day I did something wrong, and
he got angry and drew his worn leather belt
from the loops of his grey, stained work trousers
To teach me a lesson.

Terrified, I ran upstairs to the big closet
and trembled behind coats and sweaters,
as heavily he came up the steps,
righteous anger ringing in his voice,
tears flowing down my cheeks;

when my big brother, teenage and strong,
called defiance to him and drew him down
into the back yard to fight him
and save me, angered by his
memory of so many other beatings,
determined to stop it now!


But facing his own father
he could not fight back, and
weeping, I watched my dad
pummel my brother’s defenseless face,
far worse than any beating
I would have gotten.

From kitchen window,
I screamed to them both
to stop!

That was when my father saw,
in the kitchen window’s glare
his own father’s angry eyes,
and felt his father’s fists
landing hard on his own face,
and he stopped and
embraced my brother.

Spring

Seven years after my father died
my first child, my son, was born in spring,
and in the gleaming, sterile room
I first held him in my arms
as, with his impossibly wide, blue eyes
he calmly gazed right into my raw soul,
and I felt in a sudden rush of warmth,
a timeless love
and at last discovered
the reason for my life.

It was then
I understood my father.

In my son’s face I saw my own
and felt my father’s eyes gazing
in warm wonder on me
as I glowed with
unconditional love for my son.


(30 Jan 2011/ 2017)

Photo: Steven Federle holding Brian Federle, March 1986

Pentecost

When you left us

I saw how the clouds parted,

rent curtains,

as you cleared earth’s

drossy smear,

and passed into a heaven

bright beyond

our wildest imagining.

Bereft, fearful, we

shut tight the door

against wolves’ howling

and waited for you

to keep your promise.

At first it was a whisper,

the sea-ward wind

prying loose our

weak walls,

but soon the song rose, until

its power overwhelmed us

with chords of faith,

and, afire at last,

we spoke!

Out of the Silence

“Out of the silence, Light is spoken.” Thomas Merton

I walk

into the morning.

Birds

drowse

in the dark,

unseen breeze

strokes my 

arms, my bare neck,

as egrets

over the edge

of the meadow

rise

as the Holy Spirit

moans

in tones

of morning light.

(17 July 2012)