paintings of the patriarchs

1. sometimes i wonder why
the patriarchs painted you
into the sky
like some grand conductor
of the cosmos
when i most often find you crooning
underneath the stillness
above which
this dance of life is played
sometimes it seems as if
your music is unheard
even as we flow forth
from your song
we move as if disjointed
chaotic and confused
our footsteps beating rhythms
out of time
although our heartbeats beckon
to listen for pulse
the stroking of your lovesong
in our flesh
i suppose then i can understand
this desire for a director
standing front and center
to be seen                                                                                                                          but how will we ever dance
the melody you are
when we ask control
to choreograph the song

seeing sorrow

oh god, some days when i gaze into my mirror i see your beauty gazing back at me. other days i catch a glimpse of something else. something as profound in its depths as is your beauty, something of your sorrow, something of your weariness. yet in these moments i suspect i also witness something of your beauty. and it is this sadness that begs me attend to you today, to not run from it and so from you, to not deny this aspect of yourself as worthy.

oh god, can your sorrow be this deep? i want to rush into your arms, dump this heap of sadness on your lap, give it to Your heart to hold. but then i notice your face in my pain, and suddenly i realize that what i think is mine is yours.
oh god, come to me. that i may hold you for awhile. yes, my opened heart is big enough for You…. so this is how it feels to Love, to see what you see, to feel what you feel, and to hold it all. to hold out hope, to mourn the loss, to whisper ‘i am here’, to be unheard. oh god, let me hear you now.

oh god, there is so much pain! how tender is the sorrow of the disconnect. yet how full of beauty even is this emptiness. oh god, how you love!

oh god, i am here. come to me. let me hold your heartache. let me draw your head down to my breast, that you may hear the beating of my heart as it breaks open here for you. feel my gentle kiss upon your brow, my tears anointing it with blessing, mixing with your own, fluids flowing, joining once again in this holy union.

oh god there is no separation. we are truly one.

sorrow’s mirror

oh god, some days when i gaze into my mirror i see your beauty gazing back
at me. other days i catch a glimpse of something else. something as profound

in its depths as is your beauty. yet in these moments i suspect i also
witness something of your beauty in your sorrow, in your weariness. it is
this sadness that begs me attend to you today, to not run from it and so
from you, to not deny this aspect of yourself as worthy.

oh god, can your sorrow be this deep? i want to rush into your arms, dump
this heap of sadness on your lap, give it to Your heart to hold. but then i
notice your face in my pain, and suddenly i realize that what i think is
mine is yours.

oh god, come to me. that i may hold you for awhile. yes, my opened heart is
big enough for You…. so this is how it feels to Love, to see what you see,

to feel what you feel, and to hold it all. to hold out hope, to mourn the
loss, to whisper ‘i am here’ and be unheard. oh god, let me hear you now.

oh god, there is so much pain! how tender is the sorrow of the disconnect.
how full of beauty is this emptiness. oh god, how you love!

oh god, i am here. come to me. let me hold your heartache. let me draw your
head down to my breast, that you may hear the beating of my heart as it
breaks open here for you. feel my gentle kiss upon your brow, my tears
anointing it with blessing, mixing with your own, fluids flowing, joining
once again in this holy union.

oh god there is no separation. we are truly one.

thoughts on being

1.knowing
i didn’t know
i still don’t know
i simply walk(ed) the path one step at a time
choosing only to turn right or left
knowing only that neither path was right or wrong
knowing only that god would go with me
and would be there waiting for me
clinging to me
no matter which way i turned
for god is indeed within
the light and dark
the right and wrong
the knowing and unknowing

2.freedom
in the darkest fear of your imaginings
can you imagine god not being there?
within the deepest heartache you believe
that you can conjure up
can you imagine god not somewhere deeper?
by this i mean not merely holding and embracing
supporting and sustaining
but breathing blessing into each moment.
can it be that what we deem as missed
misfortune or mistake
are in truth rich with grace?
after all, do not all our constructs and conceptions
prove to be convention?
and our greatest failures open us
to deeper understandings of what Love truly is
as we are challenged to receive it for ourselves.
i believe there has not been one moment of my life
into which my own soul has not led me
there is no one to blame
there are only those who have agreed to dance with me
each lover bearing the face of god
each union birthing a child of god
each child breathed upon by god
Love can n’er be constricted
it will always find a way to flow
whether in the juicy act of joining
or in the rupture of the waters
the tearing separation that is birth
and there is no brokenness
there is only breaking open to the beauty of what is
everything lives in you
and god is somehow deep within it all
let go
and fall into the Love

3. time
time
it seems we either rush into its illusion of loss
fearing that we have not enough
or we run from its Reality
forgetting that each moment is immersed with Eternity
right here
within this moment
as within the last
and most surely within the next
we can breathe in the fullness of what is
we need not do anything at all
but simply be with and in that fullness
forgetting not that the fullness of what is
includes all that we are
here and now

time
sometimes we forget that it is a blessing of our human existence
we lament and deny its gifts
tossing them onto the pile of not-god
we think it moves too fast
when perhaps it is the gift of slowing down eternity
so that we may savor its gifts
one by one
much like the tree outside my window likewise blesses me.

cannot we embrace time then
as we embrace the earth itself
can each tick of the clock
like each piece of creation
be a book of god
each one capturing
and expressing
the fullness of god’s essence.

and so can we trust that we can always find god
within time
as we do each morning
when we throw open the window
to breath in the rising of the sun
to feel the song of birds
to taste the beauty of god’s soul

ah. do not run from it, my friend.
 

holy embrace

oh love,

how is it that you create this open space in me, while curling yourself around my curves, clinging and caressing. how is it that my spirit soars when held in your embrace. can it be an eagle flies within?

and how is that your very openness embraces, that your spaciousness ne’er eradicates your touch?

it is as if i float within your warmth. as if your tender walls expand to take in the whole of me. as if i am lost and found at once.

what delight do you suffer in this consummation? is there some nourishment i bring? do you, as i, come alive through this enchanted curiosity of touch…finding self within the body of another. and do you, as i, grow somehow more complete with the taking in of me….

i wonder at the vastness of your love, the extremities of your delight, the depths of your unspoken passion, the edges of your sorrow. and i am filled as i fill. i am opened as i open. i am emptied, taken in. in this neverending dance of our lovemaking where i am lover and beloved, where

we are one, and i am one, and neither one is broken. giving and receiving in one breath.

and still you grow, and still do i. and love receives, expands, and spills its blessing.

 

and i am created afresh in this moment, as are you, molded deep within each moment after moment after moment, bearing beauty never known before, yet somehow springing forth from the same source, from these very seeds of love, entering and thrusting, exploding fully into life, impregnating flesh.

 

oh love, within this dance of intimacy so intense i am ceaseless taken in, and all that flows from from me, as all that is of you, is received, embraced, and used in this miraculous conception, this evolution, this birthing of a life.

piles of love

here i sit

dropping words onto the pile of love

doing what i can to balance out the scales

trusting that one tiny word

might break open just one heart

….even if that heart is my own

ah, and then what love might overflow

unobstructed by rejection’s fear

might these words flow over to that other pile

to embrace each one

and what would happen to the pile of fear

finding itself loved

     

morning thoughts

how can i possibly give to you a name? you, who have opened me beyond my previous names for myself. you, who have healed me of all naming.
sometimes i wonder why, why we were given the charge to name, or is this just one more old testament trick of the patriarchs, the wounded desire of man to control credited to the will of god….
i have heard is said that when we name a thing, it creates relationship with that thing. so it is that the nameless suffering are too easy to ignore. so it is that the judgments we carry about a labeled group of people dissipate when we have a name to make the idea human. so it is that death row inmate becomes joe. so it is that animal becomes pet, a member of the family, in relationship, rather than a fear or food source… the nourishment that it provides changing from one type to another with the changing of the name.
so yes, i see how relationship is forged through naming, for better or for worse, we determine the value of a thing by the names we give to it. and somehow the power of determining that relationship, that worth, lies on the lips and the tongue, in the heart and the mind, of the one who does the naming….the one with the power to name. i wonder, does our naming of a thing make it so?
is a tree still a tree? after it is named, can we ever truly know it for what it is, or is all future knowing somehow filtered, limited by the name we have chosen to call it. am i ever again invited to relish its intricate beauty, to see it for what it is. can i ever again see the child as child emerging from the womb, once i know him as billy. do i ever again see the bird, or do i see the image that is drawn in my mind when i hear the name for it. is the spirit of a thing somehow enslaved, its true capacity to relate to us constricted by this word that comes between us? can it ever speak its truth to me again?
no, i shall not name you, for to do so is to steal from you that which is yours alone to speak. i shall not label nor de-fine you, for to do so is to attempt to capture that of you which should be free. to do so is to tell those who pass this way behind me what it is that they must see, and so to steal from them the richness that is you. and i do not wish to possess you for myself…..for to possess you is to diminish you. it is like picking up a pebble for my pocket, proclaiming it as earth, exclaiming it as mine.

so it is that i, lover of words that i am, refuse to give a word to you. so that i can set you free, let you be yourself. for this is how you taught me to be free, by simply seeing me without requiring me to be anything but what i am.

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