On loneliness

There are moments in a life 

When the loneliness of the human condition 

Breaks our hearts; 

When the path to redemption 

Seems dry and empty; 

Our only companions 

Bare thorned branches of remorse.

Be the rock

You can choose to be the rock; 

To let the waves of drama 

Brush against you,

 But to block them, hold them back, 

So the lives you touch beyond you 

Aren’t disturbed, but continue 

Calm and peaceful.

Greet the new week

With hearts open and arms outstretched 

We greet the new week, 

Full of hope and awaiting joy.

A valentine for the broken-hearted

It seems appropriate to post 

This, my most recent painting,

 On Valentine’s Day, 

Even though it seems to me 

A bit broken-hearted; 

Perhaps a bit discouraged. 

Perhaps it’s a way of sending 

 A message of love and companionship 

To all who may be broken-hearted, 

In hopes that, in the end, 

Love will prove triumphant …

Traps on a truck

Traps on a truck! 

Sounds like a swear word, 

Which would certainly capture my mood of late, 

Yet doesn’t begin to describe 

The charm of all these colors and lines. 

As Garrison Keillor used to say, 

To an English major (or a photographer) 

Everything is material! 

(And I say: beauty is everywhere)

Just rocks

I know. It’s just rocks; 

Why take — or show — a photo of just rocks? 

But something about the light, 

The way two small rocks shelter in the cleft, 

While also being singled out 

And lifted up as offerings; 

The way the others shelter in the shadow… 

Isn’t this what size and power 

Were meant to do? 

To support and protect the small and weak; 

Not to overcome?

Tea party

I imagine them gathering, 

In the late afternoons, 

For a bit of tea and gossip 

About things they have observed, 

Studiously ignoring 

The human who stands nearby 

While at the same time hoping 

She might feed them…

The urge to protect

The madrona stands out 

In a forest of evergreens 

As a naked woman would in a ballroom: 

All the ruffles and lace fade into oneness 

Against the bare vulnerability of skin — 

Awakening, unbidden, the urge to protect, 

As would a child, under threat from bullies. 

May that urge to protect 

 Always overwhelm the need for power.

A parable for today

Though the sun rose, as always, in the east, 

The east was overtaken 

By a vast, thick bank of clouds,

 And so the west offered to serve 

As a canvas for the colors 

Which had nowhere else to go, 

And together they brought beauty, spice, 

And vitality to the sky and all it touched.

Iridescence

The miracle of iridescence 

Feels like spirit, or love, 

Or creativity: so vibrant and alive; 

Incandescent, unpredictable, 

Yet possible if we are patient 

And can learn to watch and wait 

Til what looks green in one moment 

Turns in another 

To purple, blue, or teal 

While the yellow, brown, and orange 

Remain unchanged.

The Power of Love

It’s just a simple potting shed, 

But mother Nature’s special effects — 

The fog, and glorious sunsets — 

Infuse it with mystery and beauty.

 It’s love, I believe, 

That has that same effect on us humans…

Are we losing our way?

Some days it feels 

Like the guides we created 

To keep us on the straight and narrow 

And out of the weeds 

Have grown fuzzier and slipperier with time 

And may eventually disappear 

For lack of maintenance 

Or lack of use — 

 And does it even matter which? 

How can we find our way back 

To the spirit, and to truth?

Find courage in connection

It’s important to remember that 

Different things take courage 

For different people. 

For me, to draw the fine lines you see here 

Was far more frightening 

Than standing or speaking before a crowd 

Or starting a new play or painting: 

The voices in my head were shouting 

“You can’t draw! You know you’ll wreck this!” 

These are the times — 

When facing the voices that challenge us — 

We need to be willing to ask for support, 

To join forces together with neighbors,

Family, and friends 

And find courage together to resist 

The things that scare us.

More tenderness

I stand in my kitchen, 

Watching the mama doe and her yearling 

Gently loving on one another, 

And I think: this is what the world needs — 

More tenderness; 

More tenderness.

Encroachments

So often we erect barriers 

To keep us from dealing with 

The troubles of the world.

But over time, nature encroaches,

And though those encroachments

May seem lovely and fresh,

Over time they’re more likely

To pull those barriers down

And we’ll be forced to face

What we’d prefer to avoid…

To pull those barriers down 

And we’ll be forced to face 

What we’d prefer to avoid…

Gray days

Even on the gray days, 

People are still working, 

And I am working, too, 

Trying to find light between the grays 

Trying to welcome the contrast 

The dark provides; 

Greeting it with love, not hate, 

To soften its hard edges.

What if?

I watch my cat stare fixedly 

At a painting I’d stacked on the floor, 

And wonder: 

What are his thoughts as he stares, 

And what is it that engages him — 

Or did he just happen to fall asleep 

In that spot on the rug 

Instead of my lap? 

I know he loves music; 

What if he also loves art?

Be the light

I know it can be dark these days, 

But somewhere in this night 

Though it be tucked behind a cloud 

There is a light that shines. 

And if you cannot see that light, 

It may be time for you to be that light 

For others, who also struggle in the dark.

Learning to listen

I watch the seagulls, 

And they watch me, 

Occasionally engaging 

On this gray and windy day, 

And their full white breasts 

Bring back memories of the goose 

I once held in my arms 

And mothered into adulthood. 

These animals have so much to teach us. 

When will we stop and listen?

Otters

I’ve always been a fan of otters: 

There’s something about the joy they find 

Both on the water’s surface 

And in its depths, 

And the way they float on their backs 

While carrying their young 

That seems so open, and tender… 

So I totally understand 

Why an artist would choose to recreate them 

And why my town would place them here 

For all to enjoy.

Let beauty feed your soul

This photo was taken at sunrise, 

But my camera was facing west: 

Quite a surprise! 

 Just a reminder: 

Beauty can be found 

In unexpected places, 

So be brave, and bold, 

And look about you: 

 There is always beauty somewhere. 

Find it, and let it feed your soul.

Protecting the vulnerable

Help us always 

 To see beyond the distractions 

To the vulnerability that lies waiting 

To be tenderly cared for 

And gently exposed to the light.

Build habits of peace

My husband has a habit 

Of complaining about technology 

 While I, of late, have found myself 

Complaining just as much, 

But about politics. 

It’s time, I think, though I won’t deny 

Our complaints are well deserved, 

To actively seek a return to that space 

Within our hearts where peace is found, 

And to focus on nurturing that 

Til it expands beyond our selves 

And softens the conflicts of the world.

In mourning

Today we mourn the collapse 

Of something beautiful, 

And weep for the loss 

Of the ideals we held dear: 

How could so many folks condone 

This senseless killing?

Power of a symbol

Perhaps it was a mistake to choose 

As the symbol of our nation 

A huge angry predator 

Always alert for prey 

And determined to be master 

Of all that he surveys.

Echoes in the fog

The slow disintegration of this cabin 

Echoes the slow disintegration 

 Of the values we hold dear, 

Ideals embedded in our constitution, 

In our faith, 

And in our hearts: 

Freedom, compassion, equality — 

All crumbling as we watch…

Shadows

Early morning, and the sun is low, 

The mist is rising from the frosted lawn,

 And the apple trees, so barren in winter,

 Cast long, mysterious, inviting shadows 

Expanding across the path of light.

Reweaving hope

I wish, like this brave soul, 

I could rise above the controversies 

Tearing my country — and my soul — apart. 

And yet, there may be things that I can do 

Here, on the ground, 

 To find the threads of compassion 

That once bound our souls together 

 And re-weave them into a basketful of hope…

No aurora here

Waiting last night for the northern lights, 

My camera full of colors from an earlier sunset 

And sparkles from that morning’s frost, 

It seemed fitting that the sky remained as black 

As the clothing worn by the women in black, 

Who stood that afternoon to mourn 

The violence disturbing our fair country.

All is not yet lost

When so much seems dark, 

The mountain that lies beyond my window 

Reminds me the world is larger than this; 

That the sun still rises, 

There is still beauty, 

And all is not yet lost.

Why meditate?

Asked why I meditate, 

 I might respond, “because 

Things are pretty rocky now, 

And meditation takes me 

Across the ruffled waters of my thoughts 

To a kinder, gentler place 

Where I feel at home, and grounded; 

Where dark and light coexist 

 Instead of being opposites 

And I can be at peace.

We can recover

This was what I needed to see today, 

That when things are broken 

Or get knocked down, 

It doesn’t mean the end, 

Any more than winter 

 And the loss of leaves 

Means spring won’t come again. 

This tree’s been in this state 

For at least six years and more, and yet 

Each fall it’s covered with apples. 

We, too, will find a way to recover.

A loss of trust

Our ancestors built these things together, 

Our government and our military, 

As a country, to care for and protect 

 One another. 

But now we fear the institutions 

 We used to trust, 

And watch them work against us 

To serve the bastions of wealth and power. 

How could this have gone so wrong?

Remaining open

Never lose your curiosity. 

Never miss what’s underfoot, 

Or overhead, or write it off 

Because it’s ugly, or unappealing. 

Appreciate the small things: 

A three-leaf clover has its charm, 

Though it may lack the fourth leaf’s 

Wishful properties, And a single blade of grass, 

When held between your thumbs, 

Can whistle just as loudly 

As a teakettle.

Cling to ambiguity

Somehow, to save us all, 

We have to find a way to walk 

Between opposing certainties; 

To resist the urge to climb the fence 

To safety and security 

Where all is black and white, 

But cling to gray, to ambiguity, 

To possibility and hope.

Territoriality

It struck me as odd, 

To see the mature gulls 

Gathered on the right 

And the young ones 

Perched on the left; 

The young ones quiet, 

The older ones all huffy, 

 And protecting their space… 

It’s sad to think we humans seem 

Unable to outgrow this territoriality…

No more puddles

I want a leader 

Who doesn’t keep making it rain 

Just so we can see his reflection

 In the puddle, 

Making him loom twice as large…

These aged doors

These aged doors remind us 

Of a time when craftsmanship was valued, 

And people had — or took — the time 

To invest the ordinary with beauty, 

Not hurrying to get it done 

Or living by the modern rule: 

“You can have it fast, or cheap, or good: 

Pick any two,” when nowadays 

We’re lucky to get one…

Back to the source

Deep within our souls, 

There is a place that looks and feels like this: 

Dark, and cool; still, and very green; 

The place from which wisdom and comfort flow; 

The root of our compassion, 

The source of all creative thought, 

And that which feeds our hope and courage 

When things seem insurmountable. 

Go there now, and be restored, 

That we might live to fight another day.

When things ICE over

Astonishing, that when things look so dark, 

The Sun still rises in the morning, 

Bathing the world in colors so rich, 

One might think we’d never want for more— 

That is, of course, until they fade 

Again to gray, 

Extinguished by the cruelty of ICE.

In memory of Renee Nicole Good

The evidence is there, 

Right in front of us, of wrongdoing, 

And still there are those 

Who would defend it with lies. 

We watch in horror, wondering, 

What next offense will be revealed, 

And now it’s not just my poetry, 

But hers that’s been diverted 

By the ugliness of this administration.

Stop whining!

My mom used to say, “If you can’t stand the heat 

Get out of the kitchen!” Which didn’t mean

“If you don’t like it, leave,” 

But rather, “Stop whining and solve the problem!” 

And soon I learned to make a list: 

Ten things I could do to deal with the situation.

But frankly, some days, I’d rather just whine…

A rainbow of hope

It’s January 6th again, 

Five years after the capitol insurrection, 

And across the sea of my negative thoughts, 

Beneath the clouds of discouragement, 

I’m pleased to see a tiny rainbow of hope, 

And pray that it will grow into a world 

Where all the colors are once again 

Welcomed and appreciated.

Moving forward

With the new year comes a new path: 

It may not be clear where it’s going, 

And I can already see 

That there will be obstacles, 

No promise of safety, 

And no guarantees of success, 

But steps must be taken if we’re to emerge 

From this feeling of helplessness, 

Powerlessness, and inertia.

A tiny beam of hope

When so much is so wrong in the world,

 I find this wee shed heartening:

 The thought that, for however long 

It took the moss to cover this roof 

And the ivy to climb up its walls 

This shed’s allowed a trusting exchange 

Of fresh eggs, gathered by human hands, 

And money, left by grateful neighbors, 

Reassures me: 

Somewhere there’s still hope and honesty…

To a brighter future

I know things are feeling pretty rocky right now: 

The values that lit our way for so long 

Appear to be behind us, 

And increasingly obscured 

By clouds of self-interest and greed, 

But now’s the time to reach within 

And find the courage to sail forward

 Into a brighter future we can define 

Ruled by compassion and hope.

The rule of five

Having just learned there are five 

Components to a scene in a play,

 I wonder if the rule might apply 

To a picture as well, and stare at this one. 

There are the cattails in the foreground, 

And the shorebirds in the water; 

The houses on the flatland, 

The trees on the hill, 

And the clouds in the sky, 

But do they tell a story, or just sit there? 

Have they anything to offer 

Besides stillness and beauty?

Happy New Year!

May the New Year that awaits us all 

Prove as peaceful as this scene, 

And may everyone find a place at the table.