Home. Autumn. The Signatures. by Joseph Stroud

Let the day begin with its light.
For once, let the mothers and fathers sleep late.
Let the chickens in the mud
scratch their own inscrutable chicken poetry.
Let the clothes hang from the line
in the rain.
Allow the crickets under the woodpile
one more day of their small music.
Soon everything will be clean
and bare, a fine inner blazing as the leaves
drop, and the air is tinged with oak
burning across the fields.
Let the skeletons of cornstalks
scrape in the wind
and sunflowers droop heavy heads
spilling their crowns of seeds.
Let the dew on the webs
gleam a thousand pearls
as the sun hazes its light
around everything we must lose.
Let the night build its darkness,
and earth close once more
and, at last, become quiet.

Endnote: This is a lovely poem about late autumn by Joseph Stroud. I love its elegiac meditative quality. It's from his collection Of This World: New and Selected Poems published by Copper Canyon Press (Bill Merwin's publisher).

A Sufi message for November 11, 2011

Greetings on this day of 11/11/11

Truly anyone who has become selfless
has become everyone’s self:
when he is not in love with himself
he becomes loved by everyone.
A mirror clear of all images
is the most brilliant.
It purely reflects all images.

[Rumi: Mathnawi V: 2665. . .]

The Arabic calligraphic image, which we have been using for almost 30 years to represent the Threshold Society, is the double "Hu." "Hu" is the pronoun of Divine Presence. It's number is 11. Today we are celebrating Its Reality. The symmetrical presentation of the double Hu (11/11):

Hu uH

signifies the reciprocal reflection of the Divine and the human being.

Divine mirrors are everywhere. Holiness is in every particle of the universe. Split a log and it is there; turn over a rock and it is there. Look into another face with openness and love and the Divine face is there.

Knowing this, we might choose to begin every day by saying: Here I am. What do You want me to do today? How may I serve? How can I be aligned with Your will? How can I be a mirror that reflects Your Beauty?

We simply need to express our gratitude in every circumstance and ask the Divine for guidance and protection in every moment. That Grace is always available. Holiness is everywhere.

HU, Kabir & Camille

Note: The Sufis are the mystical branch of Islam. Rumi was their greatest poet.

Tenemos

Spirit calls me from this quotidian world
Celts speak of the thin places
Where the veil between time and the timeless 
is as shear as a dragonfly's wing

On an early summer's day on the Holy Isle
I lingered by the  old Abby church 
Its ancient stony fence, deceptive
in it's simplicity,
has weathered the western ocean's
 cutting salty winds for centuries

As they repaired the weather worn barrier,
two young islanders fingered a small stone
with great care as if 
They were restoring  an Arras tapestry 

An inner voice held me motionless
We were enmeshed in the eternal
They were in prayer, you see,
And I was, as well

Note: Tenemos is a Greek word for sanctuary.  The Holy Isle is Iona located in the Inner Hebrides just off the coast of Scotland.  It is the seat of Celtic Christianity as St. Columba founded a monastery there in the latter part of the sixth century.  

McSorley's Bones

The massive double globed gas lamp
hangs over the ancient oaken bar
It's soft diffusive light reveals the burnt amber patina
of this famed watering hole, redolent of beer-and-sawdust
The long brass rod between the lamps appears to be filled
with pendulous misshapen clothes pins

They are in fact old turkey wishbones of
variable vintage
An oft told tale speaks of World War I dough boys
who hung these talismans to mark their leaving as well as
their hope of a safe return
The unclaimed bony relics hang aloft
in watchful remembrance of those who didn't come back

Over the years the bony relics became encased in
great tufts of thick grey clinging dust,
an eminence grise, never to be disturbed
The public health bureaucrats disagreed and
issued an order to remove or clean them

The oldest bartender attended to this sorry chore
He cradled each in his hands and cleaned it
like a curator restoring a Meissen porcelain
He returned the ones that didn't crumble in his hands

The shrouds of great gray dust were laid
reverently in a container which the old man
put in a place of honor in his home

What's in a Name

"What's In a Name?"

I don't know her name
I saw her only once at the supermarket
She was on line ahead of me

There was a sudden frenetic conference
between clerk and manager
They looked at her askance as
the line lengthened

Curiosity overcame annoyance
My glance deepened and lingered
She had a few basic staples,
potatoes, cooking oil, beans, syrup

Her welfare check wasn't enough
She accepted the news with good grace
Nodded and moved the syrup to another place

I noticed her wedding band and
her crisply laundered McD's uniform
A young Hispanic mother with the face
of a Rafael Madonna
 Returns to an uncertain future with quiet grace

I  don't know her name
I wish I did

Let the Small Things Speak

Let the small things speak
I whispered to the small child
as we sat by  a vernal pond
one soft evening in early April

I hear jingle bells,  Miss Rachel!
She whispered back in wonder
Where are they?
All around us in the darkness

Hundreds of tiny frogs sing
in a fairy chorus to
welcome Spring's return
They peep together to
ring their elfin bells

How big are they?
Peepers are petite,  like your pinkie
They have a  big X on their backs
because they are special

Why are they special?
They are Mother Nature's
sentinels
They watch for trouble in
their homes by the pond

What trouble?
Some grownups throw 
poisoned garbage into
the rivers which feed ponds

They claim it's harmless
But the peepers know better
Their food vanishes and 
their eggs die
And they too die

The other wild creatures who
visit the ponds,
Fish, birds, beavers,
must move away or die
Until, one day, Spring comes in silence

June 1989

Sometimes drawers are portals
A yellow envelope trapped
in the back of an old desk drawer
Warns 'Save, June 1989'

A long forgotten photo with
a brittle news clipping
Stopped my breath
I travelled to China in June 1989

Our host, seated between us,
grins warmly into the future
As do we
The AP dispatch describes
a horrific scene

"In the spring of 1989, Tiananmen Square,
set in the center of Beijing, became the site of the
largest pro-democracy movement in China in the
twentieth century. ...... (during) giddy days in April and
May in 1989 throngs of more than a million filled the
streets of Beijing, criticizing the growing corruption.
..... And then, after several exhilarating weeks, it all came to a sudden end. In the early hours of June 4, as the world watched in horror, the tanks of the People's Liberation Army rolled
toward Tiananmen Square and troops fired on the crowd
killing hundreds and wounding thousands."

Memories gush forth like
an opened sluice gate
A kaleidoscope of jumbled
images
Slowly begin to coalesce
into days we relished in June 1989

A Peking Duck dinner with new friends
Open flow of opinions and ideas
Punctuated by hearty toasts
to the liberty to come in June 1989

Students in hotels greet Westerners
with eagerness and anticipation
To practice English and chat about
their dreams soon to come in June 1989

An old man on the street
invites us to tea at his simple home
We write in his guest book along with
other global visitors in June 1989

John, more than guide rather
kindred spirit
Filled with exuberance and faith
in the future
Will visit when his student visa
is approved in June 1989

So many friends lost
Phantoms now
They haunt my dreams
every day since June 1989

A Litter Box Limerick

A lady of refinement, Noreen
Dwelt in a bedroom pristine
Two kitties moved in
Strew litter end to end
She now lives in a litter box, poor Noreen!

Endnote: I wrote this for my dear cousin and fellow feline connoisseur (until recently), Noreen. The two miscreants have been permanently relocated.

Beads

Slumped in my immobile car
Interminable freight train
rumbles by
My grumbling mind starts to wander
Box cars morph into gargantuan beads,
giant's necklace or mala beads?
Forgotten photo emerges
Ancient forest stone temple
Japanese monks
each holds a giant bead
unified in prayer and community
I no longer grumble at freight trains

Endnote: This is the first poem I've posted since March. Numerous health problems intervened. I have finally turned the corner health wise at least for now and the Muse has returned. More poems to follow.

Lunar Reflections

Fullest of full moons dwarfs
the indigo hued night
Her golden features are exquisitely incised
like the most delicate netsuke
Yet her circumference blurs into
a misshapen halo
A rare apparition diminished
by my failing vision
Another loss to bear or
a grace filled metaphor?
Her overflowing fullness is that of
a compassionate heart with
Gratitude wider than
the universe itself

Endnote: On March 19 we were privileged to see the 'fullest of full moons' accordiing to the astronomers.

Sky Walk

Do you ever lose yourself in cloud thoughts?
Surrender to unfettered imaginings
of floating cities and giant causeways,
morphing into what?
Vastness of the Now
They transport us into timelessness
Do you ever feel it so?

Wishes

'Fulfilled life is possible despite
unfulfilled wishes'
What is a wish?
Not so easy to pin down
Ambition, intention, aspiration or prayer?
Perhaps a lesson

Endnote: quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer

The Meditator

He sits serenely in full lotus posture
His enormous eyes closed
His muscular legs and great feet,
folded under like a swan's wings
Hands palms up
Delicate fingers pressed thumb to forefinger in
guyan mudra
Convey receptivity and calmness
In timeless fulfillment he dwells on
my bureau
My meditating frog
Gift from a kindred spirit
who reads my soul

Equipoise

A body out of balance

A mind out of focus

A spirit bereft of resolution

Is equilibrium the key?

The tripod sits on ever shifting sands

There's the conundrum

Progressive disease defies equilibrium

Counterbalance becomes futile

Equipoise versus equilibrium

A subtle difference there -

Equal poise

Two pregnant words

To cherish a beleaguered body

To repose an unquiet mind

To acknowledge each of many losses

To honor them

To greet them as skillful teachers

Many poises abide in wholeness

Glissando

On a dark winter's afternoon

A marmalade vision wafts

across my room

Like a bright butterfly that floats

upon summer's eolian veil

My feline guru's splendid tail

performs glissandos in recycled air

Gliding from one pitch to another

His myriad moods unfold

Insouciance, displeasure, pure bliss

Gestures as expressive as any silent movie

Body language more eloquent than words

Endnote: It' wonderful to post again. I've been dealing with a very nasty case of the shingles since before Christmas. Hence the hiatus.