Tuesday, May 29, 2018

A Warm Morning




Morning hush —

Heat builds,
leaves glitter.

Into pure silver
dissolves the shade.

Birds call
winging it
to higher, darker places,
any eve
where tattered night
may hide,

seeking retreat
from day's clear,
searing eye.

(9/2011 - 5/2018)

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Summons

“When the sun rises each one of us is summoned
by the living and the dead to praise God.”
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.


In the morning
you sent clouds towering
and drove fine ice
into the tender
 rose,

(its red petals scattered, 
a holocaust 
on pure white ground)

and took my breath away!

Father, I seek you
like death, 

clean and clear
in the ringing air.

Green and golden, 
long shadows flow east
and birdsong fills 
your nodding trees.

In the gentle rhythm
of the swaying wind
there I hear 

your song again.

(10/2/2012)

Thursday, May 17, 2018

Simplicity of being

Photo: Brian Federle, Lanterns, 2014.

"....it is of the very essence of Christianity to face suffering and death not because they are good, not because they have meaning, but because the resurrection of Jesus has robbed them of their meaning.” 
Thomas Merton
*********

The moon fades, 
clouds enshroud stars
pale trees glare 
ensnared by winter winds 
blanching at death's edge,  

and yet you whisper 
gently in the rain, 
promise me gifts 
of disease and pain
to strip me clean
and pure again.  

O, make me
your sacrament!

pure essence,
of eternal gain.

(11 Sept. 2011: rev. 5-17-2018)

Friday, May 11, 2018

молитва

Фото Брайан Федерл: Утро, штат Вашингтон, август 2014 г.

глубоко в моем центре
лежит
слово.

он резонирует
мягко, это
шепоты
мне в ухо.

ее любовник,
тишина,
объятий
слово
как густой туман
ласковый
золотой
прибрежные склоны.


но эта сырая песня
метафоры,
тревожный гонг,
бедных подражания,
пересмешник.

терпеливо,
слово
сопротивляется
все объяснение.

это просто
есть.

--------------------------------------------------------------------


Prayer

deep in my center
lies the 
word.

it resonates 
softly, it 
whispers 
in my ear.

its lover, 
silence, 
embraces 
the word 
like thick mist 
caressing 
golden 
coastal slopes.

but this crude song is 
a metaphor, 
an anxious gong, 
a poor imitation, 
a mockingbird.

patiently, 
the word 
resists 
all explanation.

it just simply 
is.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

The Ground of Life


“He who is alone and is conscious of what his solitude means, finds himself simply in the ground of life.”   Thomas Merton.

I am alone, listening,
to every sound.

The breeze
whispers poems,

the plaintive dove
softly moans

in that small place
above our front-porch,

and tells me that love
is certain.

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Golden Day, Emerald Summer


Mt Hood National Forest, 2014, Brian Federle

Golden day, emerald summer,
buds erupting
to green clusters
of sweet fruit –

so sit with me awhile
in the morning shade
as the sun slides
imperceptibly toward night

and see how small birds alight
on St. Francis as he blesses
all God’s green world with

life rioting, wind-
blown seeds,
weeds wedging into small,
narrow spaces between
slender blades
of tender spring grass;

and though
I cannot see you,
know that I love you
as I know
you love me.

So together
we’ll listen
as the morning
breeze sings
of life never-
ending!

(6/3/17)