| Missing the Moment
A lone intruder lurks along the paths.
He has many names, all cloaked
under the guise of negative thoughts-
his intention and purpose to ferret out
any weakness in the foundation.
Unaware of this presence, the host, complacent,
saunters down the trails looking to the horizons of tomorrow
and the sunsets of yesterday.
The daily upkeep neglected,
the maintenance schedule ignored, and gathering dust.
The host misses opportunities to receive
the miracles, gifts, and treasures of the day.
A lone intruder lurks along the paths.
His eyes search the terrain
identifying weaknesses in the foundation.
He skillfully loads his weapon with negative thoughts,
and zeros in on his target.
Traveling Life's Paths
Intense emotions influence my decisions
As I travel life's paths.
Some routes – a choice – others not expected -
The outcome of each, not in my power to control
Events surface – altering intended routes.
Each event brings its many interpretations.
Repeated patterns – opportunities for study.
Could the path be altered by a change in view?
Or, could I repeat the pattern
And continue down the path before me?
At times, my path steers off course by unexpected events –
Slamming me against a storm wall!
Jarring me with a simple reality.
My journey along this charted course – personal –
Time frame unknown.
Yet, final destination will be reached –
EARLY?
LATE?
WHENEVER?
Paths
They veer right instead of left.
The path they are traveling is narrow,
creepy, filled with deep ravines, turbulent winds,
and savage hungry animals.
They should turn around.
Instead, they steadfastly continue down the wrong path,
searching for a place to rest.
Hoping the path will level with the passage of time.
They need to work together, but instead –
each determine their view right,
as three branches to the main trail surface before them.
One takes the right path – the other the left.
Each expecting the paths to merge-
Only to discover two narrow creepy paths,
filled with deep ravines, turbulent winds,
and savage hungry animals.
They could turn around and travel the third path together.
For this path curves around the mountain-
with strategic plateaus and tall trees to break the wind-
They would have each other
as the challenges of life cross their paths-
Instead, they travel alone - angry, hurt, and afraid.
Neither willing to see that there is another path to consider.
Clutter
Closets filled with accumulations of a lifetime
need to be sorted, organized and the junk toss aside.
At first, the closets sparse filled with a few items.
Ones inherited and passed down through the generations,
many priceless and carefully stored.
A few tossed in without thought of the consequences.
Decisions, made during a lifetime, add to the clutter.
A key to the sorting and organizing
is thoughtful contemplation.
The next generation can now start out
with priceless treasures and just a few junky pieces.
Pieces missed during the process of shedding the clutter
accumulated during a lifetime of living.
Guilt
It creeps in ruining the moment, hour, day,
traveling the weeks, months, years,
surfacing unexpectedly putting a damper
on the present - creating a festering darkness.
It creeps in clouding the view causing feelings
of remorse, sorrow, inadequacy,
interfering with the gifts.
The upbeat joy of living tarnished,
by real or imaginary wrongs.
It creeps in feeding on menacing thoughts.
Obstructing growth by blocking, hindering,
Or diminishing the present with feeling
nourished by thoughts from the past.
Closing
Meandering down the hard packed trails,
I realize I've been there before.
So many times, I've thought I discovered the solutions
only to circle back and once again travel down
life's all too familiar rough paths.
My search is for the uncharted trails.
They are difficult to find and slow going.
As I clear the newly discovered paths, the beauty along
them emerge like onion layers - each layer –
another uncharted trail to consider.
Each new trail abounds with insights and possibilities.
The knowledge gain filled with numerous opportunities
to close many of the hard packed trails.
The ones I've traveled so many times before.
Out of Nowhere
It came out of nowhere - swift, sudden, powerful!
Searing those caught in its path,
stamping its mark on time!
It came out of nowhere - strong, fierce, menacing!
Searching for the weak - fragile - young –
attacking the foundation - creating instability!
It came out of nowhere!
Driving emotions inward - building barriers -
attempting to protect the soul.
It came out of nowhere! Swift, sudden, powerful -
damaging the hosts –
Who have lost part of their humanity!
Forces Beyond Our Control
Wrapped in a blanket, I listen to the howl of the wind
and feel the power of nature flexing a small muscle.
It is just a winter blizzard with mountains of snow
swirling and twirling outside my window.
I feel small as I watch the raging wind and snow -
small and vulnerable.
Yet, this storm is only a sideshow.
Beauty unfolds within the power of the storm.
Artists, photographers, poets, and writers attempt to capture
what is demonstrated without any effort
by the powerful forces of the universe.
There always seems to be two sides of the forces.
One shows our powerlessness and helps us accept
the power of forces beyond our control.
The other seems to uncover the beauty within -
the power to change what can be changed.
We reach out to those touched by tragedies.
It can be deaths, fires, earthquakes or whatever comes upon us.
It is the reaching out that helps us touch the core within us
-
our small way of making a difference.
The Stone Mason
There was a time when the well was only a vision.
The stone mason tours the land
studies the rock formations,
looking for signs of underground water.
He digs one pit, then another.
On the third try, spring water
sprouts from the pit, marking it a perfect site.
The stone mason travels down life's paths
gathering stones from life's lessons,
stones full of courage,
stones strong, determined, powerful.
The mason mixes the mortar
with love, tenderness, honesty, compassion, and care.
He places the stones on the mortar bed,
weaving a mosaic of experiences.
The walls of the well grow.
The path to the well is hard-packed and worn.
Whenever life deals a rough passage,
I pick up my bucket and head for the well.
At times, I fear the well will dry up
for my trips to it are frequent.
Yet, I know, if I wait just a little while,
the well will fill up.
For the stone mason knows the land,
digs deep pits, taps into the best ground water,
water fed by a spring,
a spring continually renewed,
by trust, faith, hope, and love.
My Precious Child
My precious child has an intense, high spirited strong willed
nature.
When told she can't, the tantrums start with shouts of "I
want it! I need it!
I can't live without it! You can't make me!
I don't care what you think! I'm going to do it anyway!"
When her rebellious side surfaces she doesn't hear
the calm voice of reason.
Choices made usually lead to consequences she refuses to see.
For the satisfaction of the moment more important
then what will happen when she gets it.
My precious child has an intense, high spirited strong willed
nature-
Doesn't know how to handle pain, fear, and anger,
Wants to be safe but so young and inexperienced,
Doesn't know how to express how frightened she really is.
She is unsure of her abilities and criticism puts her in a tail
spin.
She lashes out! The voice of reason lost to her.
My precious child needs to know she is loved.
Even when she shows her unreasonable side,
She needs to know the adult accepts her and will always be there.
She cuddles up into the trusting lap.
The adult filled with unconditional love, understanding, and
wisdom
listens to the child's pain, sorrow, and fears.
The rebellious side comes into focus
and the two of them laugh at the antics.
Each incident, in which the rebellious side surfaces,
is an opportunity to acknowledge the child's presence.
This precious intense, high spirited child a part of me
and without her I would be incomplete.
Striking Chords
The chords of today strike one another creating an exquisite
melody.
A melody filled with hope, promise, and awareness.
I am one with the chords as the gifts along the path surface.
In a gentle loving way, they reveal their essence,
allowing me to risk a look, ponder a thought, forgive myself,
and begin to let go of the demons in my past.
I continue down the path striking chords –
creating an exquisite melody of faith, trust
and a loving acceptance of all aspects of me.
2005
Tentacles of Terror
They wear cloaks of invisibility and darken the land
with tentacles of terror and raging winds of hurricane power.
They wear cloaks of invisibility, plan out attacks
bringing fear, and panic to innocent victims.
They wear cloaks of invisibility, destroy laughter,
hinder trust, and block understanding.
They wear cloaks of invisibility, search for the weakest links
determine
to break our spirits as we await the next strike.
They prowl the land feeding on an array of frightening images,
blocking our ability to see the common thread running through
all of us.
We fight back as we join hands, interlock our arms, reinforce
each link,
and sever the tentacles of terror with the calm gentle loving
winds of hope.
2005
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