Category Archives: Life

Seaward

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“Grace does not destroy nature, but elevates it and consecrates it to God.” Thomas Merton

Seaward waits, poised,

gently rising and falling,
by the concrete pier
ready for our cruise;
the polished bowsprite,
jutting in defiance,
fills my heart
with an undefined dread.

Underway at last on the calm Sausalito channel
we strike sail, ropes winching
the mainsail tight, the foresail stretched
catching freshening breezes pushing up
from the foggy Golden Gate;
but I see only
watery desolation:
no familiar, solid road
no bright guiding line,
no golden prize
as we speed across
the dark, green desert.

The wind, no longer a breeze,
becomes a cold gale, flailing our faces,
making us hurry into windbreakers and hoods,
and when I turn my tingling cheeks
towards the shrouded city, suddenly
out far and in deep, I see

pelicans soaring and plunging to the kill,
ducks skimming low over the sea like fighter squadrons,
and sea-lions spying on us at water level,
their dog-sly eyes following our every move.

Warfare fills this place
as species battle species, and
Darwin writes all the rules.

On this voyage of discovery
we are like school-children gaping in wonder
at colorful plastic buckets of bay water
revealing sea-worms, and spider-crabs,
preying on tiny krill delicately inching
over fronds of firm sea lettuce.

So the bay is not a desert;
life pours over it,
on it, and under it,
claiming at every level
of this moist, roiling world
its birthright,

and we are unwitting participants in this struggle
tossed high and low in our powerful, winged schooner,
gliding lightly, scooning swiftly on our voyage
through the turbid, turbulent waters,
through the violent,
living bay.

(22 July 2010)

Beautiful Cellars

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‘No clock: only the Heart’s blood. Only the word.”

“I think poetry must,
I think it must,
Stay open all night
In beautiful cellars” Thomas Merton, A Book of Hours

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High round windows
over wide glass doors
fill with night;

The world’s gone to black,
to void,
to nothing.

Can you hear your whispering blood?
– surge of surf, wind in dark trees
alive – alive –

so arise now and go
down the noisy steps
to the beautiful cellar,

to the poetry.

(18 March 2013)

Lovesong

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I will be there always
even though you don’t know me.

My life will shine in your eyes,
O child of my child.

With your small, quick breaths
I will breathe again,
and when you cry
my faithful heart will again break.

So look for me in the still, high trees;
the green brilliance of the winking sun
will be our secret signal.

You don’t know me, but
your soul, your golden love,
your fears and hopes
I will keep safe in my heart,

and in the soft wind will I sing to you
O beautiful child.
I will guard you
as you play.

Look up at dancing spring clouds
and shout your joy skyward
to me!

(8 December 2010)

Photograph

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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)

grace

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Hail Mary
full of grace
you are
filled with grace,
with grace
fill me
in streams
of yes
draw me
to where you are
to where He is
among wo-
men,
yes,
among men
blessed
fruitful, grace-
fully gliding
through the
dark veil
at the hour
of yes
of my
death,
amen.

(12/29/2012)

Night Train (California Zephyr)

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WPLead

The urgent night train,
rushing quite near
calling me, calling me
come away from there.

Listen! the whispering wheels
rumble on;
not a moment to lose,
but in a moment
long gone.

Despairing,
in the dark night I hear
a distant train calling
in another man’s ear,

and wondering
how opportunity’s lost
I feel in the wind
my fear’s cold cost.

(22 July 2010)

The Vine

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The ugly stump, desolate, dead
and too deep to pull, waited for my saw,
but I, lazy and pre-occupied, lingered
as winter inundated
the mud and rock desert
outside our kitchen window.

Then spring came, and all excuses spent,
I slogged out, grim executioner,
ready to cut and pull,
when I beheld green, craggy fingers praying
for just one more chance;
so putting the saw back into our messy garage,
we began the project,

raking, hoeing, cutting, digging
(hard work for a lazy man)
and soon sod to lay
and bricks to haul for a patio,

when, bushwhacked, we spied
the truant stump
proclaiming itself a grape vine,
stringy runners running rampant
through the little garden we built around it,
hooked fingers grabbing for anything
to pull nascent leaves up,

up to the warming April sun,

out of the dark winter earth,

and alarmed we cut it back, fearful vintners,
afraid for threatened geraniums
and knock-out roses,

but a treaty agreed upon, the vine settled
for one corner and left the rest
to more delicate flora.

Life will not be denied
in our backyard.

(4/10/2009)

Origami Master

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“Perfect openness born of complete self-surrender, brings us into uninhibited contact with God.” Thomas Merton

My soul’s a sheet
of flat paper,
unfolded and featureless
until your hands press
and pinch, crease
my stubborn fears
to your desire.

You know what fills
my nascent core
and never give me up
but with your strength
to fine edge crease
and make of me at last
angel’s wings.

(10/15/2012)