Ashamed

of words unsaid

I whispered sorry

to a stone.

 

The crisp of leaves

scoffed at my penance

when I walked away

                      alone.

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I have become a permanent fixture.

No longer seen. Ignored.  Like the breath in your chest,

I’ll be unnoticed until I am gone.

Yes–I’m an old coat rack, a hall tree with deep

diverging roots beneath this splintered wooden floor;

hairline fractures  mapping out and making a break

for freedom, covertly inching away , searching

for an oasis in the compacted backfill

that formed the foundation of this lonely house.

But there is no leaving.

The mud I carried in on the heels of my boots

Made fast friends with the companionless dust on this cold floor,

Made of the same stuff from a different beginning,

evidence of my past missteps mingling

with the consequence of your inertia and dead space.

Rooted and glued now. Unable to move for fear

of dying, for fear of uprooting the only home you have known.

And so here I will stay. Silent.  Unblinking.

And tomorrow—

and every tomorrow–

I will be here, strangled by scarves, aching

under the weight of your plans for rainy days.

And I will watch you

pass me by, toss your hair

and walk out the door.

Out

into the sun.

you write

poems?  that’s cool

he purred, hiding his hand.

where do you get material?

I laughed.

You are what your deep, driving desire is.


As your desire is, so is your will.


As your will is, so is your deed.


As your deed is, so is your destiny. 

 

                                                                                       

 

This is one of my favorite quotes from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad . I’ve been trying to identify my own driving desire, and in doing so realized that I have never really taken the time to get to know myself. Sound strange? My daughter asked me some simple questions about myself that I couldn’t even answer: favorite color, favorite food, favorite book, happiest memories besides the birth of my girls and wedding day. I realized I had never taken the time to consider how I feel about any of these little things, much less try to identify what it is that I truly desire beyond the obvious good health, happy family, etc.

So, what is your deep,driving desire? Do you know? Do you have one? If not, maybe it’s time to step away from the daily chaos and spend some time thinking about who you are, who you want to be, and what you truly desire.

Good vibes to all,

D

 

This is an older post that I feel compelled to resurrect today as I read the wonderful words of kindness, gratitude and humility that are spilling across the pages of the wonderful blogs I visit. Thank you for reminding me that it is the little things that matter and are the most powerful–the thank yous, the anonymous visits, the smile in the eyes of a child, the crash of a wave on the shore, the gentle breeze, one kind word. Kindness is all around us if we only choose to see it.

 

 gratitude

 

one single taproot grows the tree

one silent ripple rocks the sea

and lonesome does our one moon stand

yet lulls the water to the sand

 

a breath of wind, of humble power

gives flight to seed to grow the flower

and one stone more will part the stream

when hopeless did the passing seem

 

it seems we notice one subtracted-

a moment spent, one word retracted

unconscious of  ethereal  kindness

we walk the shore in partial blindness….

 

The might of one we fail to see

when cloaked in sweet simplicity

Hi everyone!

We’re back from vacation and I am trying to get back into the swing of things, so I thought I’d pose a question for discussion to get my fingers warmed up.

I’ve always believed that things “happen for a reason,” and that no coincidence is meaningless or entirely random. Over the years I’ve experienced many coincidences that seem to have shaped the path of my life, or validated a path I was considering. Some are “big” and some are “little,” but I always try to figure out the meaning behind them. For example, as many of you know I’ve been thinking about my grandmother (the subject of “Camelot”). We called her “Nanny” or “Nan,” which in my experience is a rather rare term. In any event, while strolling the boardwalk recalling memories of my childhood, a man caught my eye. He had a tattoo on his arm with the word “Nanny” above a cross and two dates–one of them being my birthday. Later during the week, we went boating, and my husband helped a man anchor his boat. They chatted for a bit, and it turned out the man and my father shared the same name.

How about you? What do you think about coincidences? Are they completely random, or evidence of a greater orchestrating power? Have any altered the course of your life?

Do tell!

She sat beside me

and watched me struggle

as I attempted to build

an empire from broken glass and tears

with retaining walls and a moat in defiance

of the tide.  

it will never be strong enough she told me

but there is nothing more you can do

it will soon be gone and I knew that

she was right.

I wiped the sands

of make-believe from my eyes and cheeks

and we sat together and watched the ocean

swallow the kingdom, leaving only wet

clumps of a childhood dream, an illusion

at our feet.  

follow me she said, and I walked with her to the edge

of the water. We stood ankle deep in silt

and broken shells. We stood in the only silence

that can be known on the edge of the water,

the kind of silence where you know

you are not alone

and never can be. We stood together,

worlds apart for what only seemed to be

an eternity.

 

Gentle swells brought children dancing in the surf

singing and playing the games that children play,

unknowingly conjuring spirits and speaking truths

they have yet to learn

                                          ring around

                                          the rosie

                                                         a pocket

                                                         full

She smiled at me and took my hands in hers

and we splashed and stumbled in circles

once, twice, three times

                                                          ashes

                                                          ashes

We all fall

And I knew it was time to let her go.

 

I turned away, holding in my hands the remnants

of her that had woven into my fingertips

and walked back up the sand

to my daughter, who was waiting for me

with the ocean in her bucket, waiting to build

sand castles.