Weekly Reading

Singapore

 In Singapore, in the airport, a darkness was ripped from my eyes.

 In the women’s restroom, one compartment stood open.

 A woman knelt there, washing something in the white bowl.

 Disgust argued in my stomach and I felt, in my pocket, for my ticket.

 A poem should always have birds in it. Kingfishers, say,

 with their bold eyes and gaudy wings.

 Rivers are pleasant, and of course trees.

 A waterfall, or if that’s not possible, a fountain rising and falling.

 A person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.

When the woman turned I could not answer her face.

 Her beauty and her embarrassment struggled together, and neither could win. 

 She smiled and I smiled. 

What kind of nonsense is this? Everybody needs a job.

Yes, a person wants to stand in a happy place, in a poem.

 But first we must watch her as she stares down at her labor, which is dull enough.

 She is washing the tops of the airport ashtrays, as big as hubcaps, with a blue rag. 

 Her small hands turn the metal, scrubbing and rinsing.

 She does not work slowly, nor quickly, but like a river. 

 Her dark hair is like the wing of a bird. 

 I don’t doubt for a moment that she loves her life. 

 And I want her to rise up from the crust and the slop and fly down to the river.

 This probably won’t happen. But maybe it will. 

If the world were only pain and logic, who would want it? 

 Of course, it isn’t. 

 Neither do I mean anything miraculous, but only the light that can shine out of a life.

 I mean the way she unfolded and refolded the blue cloth, the way her smile was only for my sake;

 I mean the way this poem is filled with trees, and birds.

~Mary Oliver

Weekly Reading

"The thought manifests as the word
The word manifests as the deed
The deed develops into habit
Habit hardens into character
So watch the thought and its ways with care
And let it spring out of love
Born out of concern for all beings
As the shadow follows the body as we think, so we become..."

~Buddha

Weekly Reading

Love Poem With Toast

Miller Williams

Some of what we do, we do
to make things happen,
the alarm to wake us up, the coffee to perc,
the car to start.
The rest of what we do, we do
trying to keep something from doing something,
the skin from aging, the hoe from rusting,
the truth from getting out.
With yes and no like the poles of a battery
powering our passage through the days,
we move, as we call it, forward,
wanting to be wanted,
wanting not to lose the rain forest,
wanting the water to boil,
wanting not to have cancer,
wanting to be home by dark,
wanting not to run out of gas,
as each of us wants the other
watching at the end,
as both want not to leave the other alone,
as wanting to love beyond this meat and bone,
we gaze across breakfast and pretend.

weekly reading

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but,
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but,
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous the gods wait to delightin you.
~Charles Bukowski

Weekly Reading

Snow Geese Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!What a taskto ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One fall day I heard above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was a flock of snow geese, winging itfaster than the ones we usually see, and, being the color of snow, catching the sun so they were, in part at least, golden.  I held my breath as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us as with a match, which is lit, and bright, but does not hurt in the common way, but delightfully, as if delightwere the most serious thing you ever felt. The geese flew on, I have never seen them again. Maybe I will, someday, somewhere. Maybe I won't. It doesn't matter.What matters is that, when I saw them, I saw them as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
~ Mary Oliver ~

Weekly Reading

A yogi’s prayer

May all who are mean return to good;
May all who are good obtain true peace.
May all who are peaceful be freed from bonds;
May all who are free set others free.
Blessings upon all the earth;
May all of the world’s rulers uphold righteousness.
May only good fortune reach everyone;
May all the world’s creatures be happy.
May rain fall when the earth is thirsty;
May all the storehouses be filled.
May everyone here be free from injury;
May all who are good be free from fear.
May everyone know a life of joy;
May everyone live a life of health.
May everyone see only good in the world;
May everyone soon be released from pain.
May everyone overcome all their woes;
May everyone see only good in the world.
May everyone realize all their desires;
May everyone everywhere be glad.
May our mother and father be blessed;
Blessings upon every creature on earth.
May our works flourish and aid everyone,
And long may our eyes see the sun.
Om shanti, shanti, shanti (peace).

Weekly Reading

Choice

I do not respond in predicatable ways
like a rat in a maze.
I am not controlled by people or events.
I make concscious choices that put me
in control of my life.
I think, then act and watch my life transform.
Spirit turns the darkness before me into light.
When blind to solutions at hand, when the
way seems blocked, I trust devine intelligence
to reveal the way to paths I have not known.
~Gabriel Halpern