In loneliness we are together

In loneliness we are together,
Trembling like lakes in the cold wind,
But always belonging to the same sea,
Where trembles become waves
That crash and soar and shape
The future of the world.


Consumers of Grace

We are consumers of grace,
A forever renewable greenery
Gardened by a gatekeeping horizon
Opening and closing its borders
Before our dream-bespectacled scrutinization,
Feeding our numbness alternately
with empty words and promises.

Walking through wilderness

Even when your mind seems like a desert,
Or an urbanized concrete grayness,
Your spirit remains a thick green wilderness
Unharmed by matchete knives or sickles,
With impulses like wild animals, elusive,
Fleeting, but strong and muscled and impossible
To cage and tame.

Grace over a cupped land

The morning is white and
Sinless in its Christening gown.
The sea half-dark in the low
winter sunlight.
Under the paling February sky
A network of narrow light shafts,
Matronly guarding islands
Like deep green
Unfathomable eyes
Kholed by
Sharp Rock-layered cliffs,
Pour, from invisible palms,
Grace over the cupped land.
From here
All stretches out,
Changeable, dim and moody.
A bright-lit swathe of
Unquiet spirits
And an intricate web of bays
Still admitting the inscrutable
Tides of cognition.

Moving us along

A place in the sun
Where birds cross
And cross again on the wind
Breathes your spirit.
A shimmering swathe of
wind-knotted secrets
To brush the tears away.
And a voice,
No more than a whispering
Echo of a gentle breeze,
Falls into consciousness
From the farthest margin of our being;
The resting point of oceans,
Moving us, in shining certainty, along
The cluttered existence
Of humanity.

Against Eternity

I lie on my back Watching
snow heavy clouds drift across the sky
Like icicled wings of swans
Pounding the horizon
As if to split the light asunder.
And I see my own life Silhouetted
Against Eternity
Like an invisible undersea reef
Burning in the grip
Of the clear, sharp sunset.