Modern Parable

The evil one

believes that he alone

lives in paradise.

He sees his gold and marble halls

fat tables groaning under

feasts unshared,

worships the idol

in the mirror

and he smiles;

whereas the saint 

labors in hot vineyards, 

wipes brows burned by 

the risen sun, 

creases the fertile earth

and with wrinkled hands

fills the bowls

of the poor,

and God smiles.

(2014 March 23)

 

The Proud Man

Photo: Sunlight Through Dirty Window

David Barrett

(used courtesy of artist)

The humble man receives praise the way a clean window takes

the light of the sun."  Thomas Merton

The proud man 

is like a dirty window.

He cannot permit to pass 

the morning's glory;

whereas the humble man

dissolves in the light

of the rising sun

like a freshly scrubbed window.

(22 Feb. 2013)

The Book of Life

“Perhaps the book of life, in the end, is the book of what one has lived and if one has lived nothing, he is not in the book of life. “ Merton, Thomas, When the Trees Say Nothing: Writings on Nature 

Turn the pages
past the flashy cover
beyond sincere dedications;
what do you
read?

Are there tragedies
lurking in your leafy folds?
Do you struggle, oh Hero,
with sirens and one-
eyed peep-
ing Toms?

Are you triumphant?

In your brief tale,
do you satisfy
harried Plot’s demands?

Are you happy
with your climax, your
denoue-
ment?

Or, with eyes moist and red,
at last do you drop
your ragged volume
to the musty cellar floor,
and wonder,

what happened?

(29 May 2012)

Ego-trip

Locked inside

where only I can be

lonely cries echo,

deafening me.

I peer through sockets

through skull

and soft flesh,

blood coursing

nerves enmesh

electric thoughts rocketing

through bone-strapped brain,

lightning revealing

God's face once again.

With muttering thunder,

the sad world declines

back into empty

personal night.

(22 May 2012)

The Elders Are Confused

You call us unruly children,

but you confuse us!

First, your cousin came,

eating insects, drinking honey,

preaching re-thinking,

shoving stubborn heads

under cold Jordan's

waves.

Clearly possessed!

Then along you came

laughing, eating, drinking,

with sinners consorting,

singing songs of paradise
to prostitutes.

So what's it to be?

Mourning

to John's dirge?

or dancing

to God's piper?


****
ref: Mt 11:16-19

(8 Dec 2011)

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)

Unsent

In the distance

across the dark continent, 

we've drifted 

into silence,

our years shrouded

in a mist of 

unknowing.

Ah, once we were brothers

roaming the hills of green Ohio!

Remember that long bike ride? 

We pedaled all the way

to Link Road, to the 

Little Miami

to see Mark. 

I could not imagine

that we could go so far, 

but we did.

And at school we always moved

in circles of competition

and sibling pride,

but now, living so long beyond sight,

we've lost our bond.

We are strangers.

I hear you're doing quite well.

I hope in the quiet

of long winter's night, 

you think of me

occasionally.

Born Again

“To be born again is not to become somebody else, but to become ourselves. “       

Thomas Merton

Check in the mirror and

see who’s looking back.

Look deeply into your eyes

and see the darkness

of the center.

Your smirking self

is not important.

Don’t be swayed

by glint of silver or grey;

for age speaks no

wisdom,

and even your scars,

your hard-worn skin,

creased and mortal

means nothing

in the darkness

of the center.

The Quarrel

"Let no one hope to find in contemplation an escape from conflict, from anguish or from doubt." Thomas Merton

* 

Words spoken drift like

mustard gas, doubt burning like

webs, unexpected

spiders brush my ears,

slip into my eyes as blind-

ly I rush away.

On a Razor's Edge We Live

“Despair is the absolute extreme of self-love.” 
― Thomas Merton


Gazing into bright desert space
we see endless highways, distant
mountains we never reach,
sharp hills, steep cliffs
receding
as we move closer,

closer,
to the pacing sun
creasing dark canyons
casting amber light
into the gauzy sky,

yet our dark dreams trouble
the faint stars and reeling planets
throw wide nets over
haunted, lost souls

when, morning at last,
we begin again
pursuing the tumbling edge
of this turning globe

and we believe that
it will never end, will never
end,
will never
end.

The Next American Idol

Is it true that all my motives have meant nothing?
Is it true that all my desires were an illusion? Thomas Merton

I want to ride the wind,
feel the rush of pride
as I stride front and center,
to  become the next
American Idol!

My flame rises high into
the summer night sky.
Garish and bright
My eager stars spread
the heat of grandeur
the light of illusion.

But in the soft dawn,
in the morning rain
only smoldering
lies remain.