a path through the dark
trekking in the dark
with no torch
I glide along uneven ground
follow the pale ribbon of path
keep pace with my son’s
pale calves below black shorts
try not to consider
snakes
do my best to noiselessly
fade into the grey
Palu Museum megaliths
the thousand-year-old figures
show the body plain
and filled with power
fierce naked stone spirits
all eyes ears nose genitalia
perceiving generating nourishing life
Alex told me about the cadaver
what they do to help the students
view it as form not being:
cover the face (obviously)
but also the hands
the hands disturb them
when they wield the knife
too personal and desperate
too likely to move
every day everywhere
we learn what makes us human
all us apes gathered in a clearing
thinking about the ones before us
who chipped stone with stone
to leave for us these silent symbols
saying who we were
off the beaten path
straddling intrepid and foolhardy
being brave yet reasonable
managing risk and reward
fear and amazement
like balancing black and white checks
on the temple guardians’
chessboard sarongs
body language
not knowing their words
I read people better
their actions and attitudes
all I can gauge
in a moment
I have taken their pulse
intelligible words
pouring out of a mouth
distract from the telling
twitch of the lips
clarity of gaze
steadiness of hand
that simmer to make
savoriness of character
in English we dismissively say
intuition
gut feeling
impression
as if it’s misleading
at best a guess
not the sum total
of generations of watching
what people do
when not telling the truth
Owen took these photos.
Jalak Bali
until I saw it
against sky
I thought its whiteness a liability
its blue face gaudy
but up in the canopy
it dissolves into air
insubstantial as cloud
as embedded in the
broad blue canvas
as leafbird is to tree
disappearing like
siang supplants pagi
and sore whisks away siang
you never know
who beauty might save
on inadvertently failing to write
the * in the record book
imperfection makes us real
fallible human distracted
why is it that I
didn’t sing the day last night?
so many reasons
with so little merit
it is what it is
keep calm and
as Cedar would say
be awesome
thank you for prayers answered
my life like every other
one string of miracles awaiting notice
my genesis two unlikely souls entangling
my first heartbeat echoing
her warm thrum of love
that has borne me through all my days
the luck of having a sister
of being not-alone growing up
growing older
the two loving grandfathers
who saw me whole
and hugged me at every chance
the teachers who cared for me
who made my wandering path seem
a matter of course
the creek and lake and ocean water
that dissolved any bits of world-weariness
my high school friends who claimed me gladly
innocently swinging under a circle of moon
my college friends
who I didn’t need to explain myself to
the kind of people I had hoped existed
especially that tall skinny boy with steady hands
calm competence
flashing mischievous eyes
and a romantic calculator
who pulled me close
and hung on through everything
through uneventful years
and life-altering moments
for the soft warm fur of a clever loyal dog
and the home I always dreamed of
lace curtains books on shelves and peace
and the children I couldn’t have dreamed up
so their own incomparable souls
and I so lucky to live beside them
for my friends today
these real raw devoted fierce compassionate endlessly-giving
beings I trust and turn to and emulate
for the luxury of time to be not do
the great joy of purpose and belonging to all that is
the unasked for beauty strewn about us all everyday
and, today, our son’s sweet journal
with its sincere silly sketches
and inscribed delible memories
returned to him by a kind stranger’s hand
for all these gifts seen and unseen
Lord, I am not worthy to receive them
but only say the word
and I shall be healed.
Prayer to End Bickering
3 ways to hurt:
silence
ridicule
selfishness
3 ways to heal:
communication
kindness
generosity
Our Father
who art I-know-not-where
hallowed be all your manifestations
o place within my fumbling grasp
the sword of wisdom
and guide my hand
to carve peace
in our little 4-roomed home
in the 4 chambers of our hearts
in our 4 doubting minds
so that we each
first do no (more) harm
volcano
we land creatures
move our eyes
across the earth’s
folds and dimples
taking in texture
thinking we know
where we are
meanwhile
its ponderous girth
squats sumo-style;
a loincloth of
white cloud severs
the cone from
our lived world
it’s only when
we remember and
look up beyond
where we expected
that we see
