Discovery

Watching day
end,

we spread
under pink
lavender skies,

sunset starfish
taken by clouds

tangling and untangling
in the unknown
lightness of air

until we awaken
to that
element
within and between
and of us.

We drop
into the sea
with the sun

wondering if
we are coloured
pink
lavender

or if we are
even

of the sea
anymore.

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To a Teacher

I had not
tried to meet him
for I felt too small,

so I was unprepared
when the grace
in his words
met me.

They say a
man can die
and his bones
lay in one place
hidden, underground.

His words
came to me
as I walked
through

golden, red and
brown leaves

unexpected,
and I was only
dressed

in autumn,
heading to
winter.

He turned my
mind to Spring.

They say the touch
of a teacher across
time, space, even death
is a blessing-
Adhisthana.

This is written to Sangharakshita who died in late October. I am in the Triratna Buddhist movement and have learned much from his books and teachings, though I had never met him.

Savannah

History
comes to me,
a dim and starless
unsky.

The truth
lays in lies
by what they
deny.

The flower
in a name – magnolia
belies

the rain

wet green
bog vines

reach
grasp
smother

the rolling rumble
of the land

and the scent
of southern sweetbay

– Savannah.

I spent some time in the south and felt its heavy, rich presence which led my mind to this poem.

Grief is the Crow

Grief is the crow
that stole the moon
and hid it in the shadows.

Grief is the shadow
that forgot the moon
and searches endlessly.

The heart an empty bowl,
a hand curls around
nothing but memory.

The end of grief
comes suddenly.

The crow soars
dark against the sun
and the heart soars with him,
free.

I am the Moon’s

A swirling under
the lunatic moon

she says
dance with me
yet stands
so far so
gleaming.

The wind pushes
leaves through
the tangles
of shadow-

at what cost
do I linger
in dappled night?

I am
the moon’s
so I am
not
lost

until
I am

caught in the
clarity of
the sun’s
eyes.