GRIEF

I weep for this world,

I am a part of this world,

I am a part of that small hungry child

on the other side of the world,

At some unconscious level,

I feel the pain of a woman 

whose husband has died to violence,

I weep for her,

I weep for them,

I grieve for us all,

I must grieve for myself.

Some of us feel everything,

We cannot help it,

If you cannot feel the pain of others,

It still affects you,

It still becomes an illness of sorts,

A sense of unease.

There is no solution for the empathetic life.

It is the grieving that opens me to my heart, 

To my compassion for others, 

and in certain hopeless moments,

I touch compassion even for my self. 

CHEERLEADING FOR THE SOUL

CHEERLEADING FOR THE SOUL

For men who fight death daily,

Whose minds are their own worst enemy,

Breathe in an army of Angels,

Fight self loathing barbs

With sweet loving kindness,

Accept first, your ruthless hatred

Of your self

And overwhelm it

With acceptance,

Embrace your meanness tenderly

Forgive it-

It is not you,

It is your sickness,

And the shame that chokes you

Is its way of keeping you sick.

Applaud your smallest victory

And fight this fight continuously,

If your mind will not sleep

You must swing your weary sacred sword

Until your arms fall off,

And then continuing swinging

With the relentless beat

Of your loving heart.

Stand up alone in the deepest center

Of your truest self

And scream at the top

Of your breathing lungs,

“You will not win!”

“Intruder, phantom, liar, fake!

Get out, get out, get out!!”

My true life loving self

Demands to love the birdsong.

All the divine sounds

That beauty sends to bless me

Sound like noise

When I am trying to save myself with thinking.

Someone else’s music,

Children’s laughter,

Riotous bird song and whistle,

“I can not hear myself think!”

And you banish the beauty from your life

And secure the sickness even more.

Still Spirit continues to whistle to you

Through one insistent bird

Who loves you far more

Than you love yourself.

Wake up soul baby,

Wake up soldier of love,

Wake up and grasp life

And breath in beauty-

Pull it deeply in,

Make room,

Throw out

All the struggling

And suffering;

ideas of who you think you ought to be..

Your thoughts are wrong,

Your thoughts are lies,

You are not who

You think you are,

You are so much more,

Now stop

And let a quiet tear

Of grief

Roll down your sweet

Deserving cheek

Relax

And fight no more

Surrender

Lay down your arms

Give up

Be still,

Weep for your defeat

And let what comes arrive.

Wail and cry

Let die

This tiny little “I”

Be brave

Let go

Who knows

What love may come to fill the place

Your forgiving heart

Has just erased.

Have faith

Sweet child,

Have faith.

Otter

62204

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS HEROES!

there is no such thing as heroes!

only heroic moments..

Opportunity is another word for facing and going through the fear that arises when challenged with difficulty.  Think of your heroic moments!  

You are a Warrior!

ATONE

ATONE

I long to round the urban corner, 

Leave behind measurements of distance,

Doings and achievements, 

Fall

Into that sweet field, 

The one that Rumi speaks of,

Where we somersault

Free of our judgments

Of Right, Wrong, Good, Bad

And One Another. 

I long to achieve a perception of you, 

That no longer requires me to tolerate, accept or forgive you, 

A perception that never demands 

That you be any different than you are.

Until I round that corner,

Until I meet you in that field of love,

I pray to do the next best thing:

Atone for my judgments.