this side of the veil

This random holiday we call life
can feel tricky, a mystery to be
unveiled through daring travels
that map our trails.
Blessings of memories, to feel
again and still
winters’ brutal chill,
blanketed, in warmth –  cocoa, love
of family discovered,
within healing web of friends.
This Side of the Veil
As I grow older, so many beloved people disappear,
beyond the veil, they say, into a better place
of endless peace.
We find ourselves here in life, each with our mission,
skills realized as we advance along our separate paths
that lead to the same destination, that shimmering veil
we can’t perceive beyond, screen upon which we paint
silhouettes of mystery.
Traveling winding paths, we meet, become, with time,
beloved, joined in gifts, fears, celebrations.
Who we are expands through inclusion, evolves
greater awareness, entwines bonds to humanity.
It’s this side of the veil where we choose who
those we leave behind will remember us to be.
It’s this side of the veil where we may
worship Earthly blessings, days to dance with
the Sun, come together to face mysteries,
dark nights to raise above;
where we devise solace of humor, simple fun,
the rush of touch.
It’s this side of the veil where we wonder,
play out mosaic stories, sing ritual reflections,
dance madly stretching, find inside our rendition
of humanity, express each our special light
along the line.
And this side where ultimate grief resides.
This side where we choose to pretend or truly
make amends for careless ignorance, mad cruelty,
take active stand against spreading pain and
dangerous lies.
It’s this side, here in our hands, crackling through
our imaginations, vast possibilities as yet unseen,
ours to grasp while hands we have.
Do you know those moments closer to the veil,
revealing shadow dance through sacred space,
liminal embrace of ecstatic empathy when
vibrations echo, reverberate, send ripples dancing
through the veil?

flower moon meditation

flower moon
I will be fine.  We will be fine.
Every manner of thing will be fine.
Heavens of sunshine will open and flow
through our homes, through our souls,
through our Earth.
Life giving water will hydrate the fields,
replenish the lakes and streams,
delight our throats and skin,
revivify mirth and hope.
Throw all your cares into fresh air;
dance to a rousing tune.
What is the point of this time if we’re
always dying, denying true being?
What can we answer when asked:
What did it mean?  What did you see?
Running in panic, not for the fun
of feeling legs rise and fall.
Running away as if there is somewhere
to go.
Stop.  Take stock.  Breathe inspiration.
Do the real work that needs to be done.
Work smart, not hard; merge work with fun.
Find the folks whose humor works with yours
and share the chores, like child’s play.
Day by day by day, we will be fine.
Every manner of thing will be fine.
I will be fine.

A Call to Russian Soldiers

A Call to Russian Soldiers:
Why do you kill these people
who try to defend their homes,
or escape your hellfire?
What lie can you have been caught
by that would allow such brutality?
See the grievous terror you have wrought,
are still wreaking.
What can you plea as explanation,
How can you continue to make Hell
on earth continue, ripped into this 
bloodbath of destruction, when you,
brave kind you,
could choose, use your might
to reclaim sanity, to save the world?
[“what if they gave a war, and nobody came?”]


It’s a picturesque New England Winter scene
out there; and in here, with the cat curled
asleep on my lap.
I write by light of BBC News (muted),
when the tv gets bright enough to see
me making green pen streaks on the
white blank page.
I ignore the stories of raging discontent,
dis-association of societies,
a seeming mad panic.
It is a dark and quiet Winter night,
unfit for battle, or bitter dreaming.


My father died when he was younger than I am now.
My younger brother, who was a father, is also gone
from our lives.  How do I reminisce, make them real
again in my mind?
People who were tall and strong to a younger me;
people I could count on to keep their word, honor
responsibilities.  Able to unbend into happy
foolishness, extend stories to take me where I
would not have known to be.
But that’s all about me.  Can I see them each as
men of their own?
My dad as a young man was dashing, convivial
in company, serious about the task at hand, a
well-reasoned thinker with a facility for speaking
with passion.  He had a buoyancy, a charm.
He would, with good humor, relate how when he
was dating my mom, my grandmother did not approve.
She suggested my mom cook for him, a job she knew
my future mother could not successfully do.
“The burgers were burnt.  Who noticed?” he would
quip, love shining in his sure blue eyes.
The Navy tales, where he won World War II in the
South Pacific, while youngest on the ship – like
when on leave, though quite sick, he went out drinking
with his pals, and would ever insist he was cured by
the alcohol.
On a happy whim he would whistle or play jaunty
tunes on his harmonica.
He loved to argue as an exercise in logic, often
espoused less popular views.
Unconvinced by religion, he would suggest our
Universe might exist on the back of a giant fish.
(His father’s family founded a church in Europe and
again when they emigrated to the USA, that
preached a radical Hellfire Christianity.)
He grew up poor and abused, never used as an
excuse, but as impetus to do well.
And what of little brother, born into my life
when I was so young; gone so long before I’m
done discovering who he was.  A precious
blue-eyed son, eager to engage, to play, to join
in games.  Fascinated by financial math,
collecting coins.  Learning his world working for
pay from an early age.  Growing tall and strong,
bright and athletically inclined, a golden child he
seemed in those early years, blessed with lifelong
friends to be.
Later years he appeared to live within a quiet
wisdom, extruded from confusions, fears, disease,
life’s exigencies, in the years between.   tbc
* *  *  *  *
Two old men in Heaven, at ease under the World Tree,
share musings of philosophy, their darkest nights,
coldest days.  Was Nietzsche right?
Did life amaze us with frightful beauty?
Did we survive precious trials to reap rewards, treasure
we could never find without misfortune as clever guide
inspiring new strategies to form?
Deafening nightmares, desperate storms,
brave rainbows, peaceful dawns.
Two old men, weathered, withered, wise.
Listen, be risen, by the gentle smiles we remember
in their envisioned eyes.

Epiphany ’22

Epiphany ’22
I am not nice.
I don’t believe in a special
sacredness of human life.
I do believe it stupid and insane
to regularly kill each other, be
our own worst enemy.
That’s why we need government —
rule of law.
But, just enough governance to
keep us from harming our fellows,
and planet, as well as we can.

merry season

Hail the merry Season!
    A boost for love & joy
time to shout out loud, ablaze
          A very merry holiday
        to each and all I say!
Soaring day, far into greater space,
where kindly constellations
tell stories of joy, sparkling grace.
Miraculous day to carry like inspiring song,
melodies layered through ages.
Welcoming evening lights,
cozy homes, familiar rites,
recall of feasts, merry meets, gift of returning friends
evoke deep breath of peace, belonging, generous amends.
Raise high the revelry.
Ascend into muse-ways, space for effulgent play,
as if myths foretell our lives.
Goddess of Night
from celestial firepit
feeds dreamers
the potency of stars’
cosmic light.
Far, in green glade mists
where sacred hymns are born,
primordial chthonic gods commingle,
frolic with merry sprites conjured.
Winter nights can exude that vibrant beauty,
so poignant, wild and overwhelming.
Cold breath waking primal life.
Gazing into the stars to welcome
the clear, icy surrounding of spirit.
Winter blessed to inspire us beyond
mundane measure.
The essence of who we are —
living world dependent on
a star for light and warmth, for energy.
Ceremonies carry myth to shape awareness.
Beauty’s sacred well
expands metaphoric cells with
water of bliss and contemplation.
Sacred vessels aching to be filled,
dip in with grace, good will, drink deeply,
copious draughts of ecstasy.
This is not belief or even knowing.
This is breath of awe in motion.
Rare and wonderful, the essence of beauty,
it is in our vital core to listen. 
The more we listen, awe, compassionate wisdom takes hold,
we become attuned.  We become the voice of welcome,
of familiar kind regard.
Cherished, merry soul
dancing the golden mountain trail,
reveling in freezing rain and snow,
tasting the bite without bitterness…
If only we could reach into
legendary epiphany,
reach out in simple empathy.
If only we could simply be
lost in beauty and laughter,
like joyful fire sprites dancing warmth
into this Winter’s night.
Coalescence of blessings —
Smell virgin snow, spice and roast,
pine laced fire.
Meet make-believe elves to tell
secret desires.
Delegation of peace, these moments
gifted with meaning,
lighthearted believing,
merry ritual.
The innocent joy of uncomplicated affection,
of passionate beatific dance to a sacred drum.
The horizon shifts through daily duties and nightly prayers.
We take what we can. We give
dear wishes for a future where convivial peace abides

Seeker’s Flame

Candles burn within dark halls.
Sparks of wisdom engrave walls.
Vision churned from flame enthralls.
Doorway into sacred revelation — severe, profound,
grabs from beneath the conscious realm.
Movable fire for warmth and vision.
Flame as friend, staunch companion of
Phoenix Fire fills open hearts.
Potent flame to flow with natural progression,
adapt to align with intention, to succor, exalt,
to ignite.
Perpetually cast toward bliss,
dance to the music of passion.
Avenge the angst of life’s attractions.
Get caught up in the lava flow,
burning to spend and leap without
Feed on what feeds your blossoming,
infinite bliss,
the whole of the real.
Let your mind drift and wander.
Take a leisurely stroll through
what feels good, right, beautiful…
To wander clothed for travel, no map, destination;
direction found in whim or instant’s serendipity.
A wild road calls, beyond this threshold.
Arms wide into flight
above foam and sea,
absorbed by eternity.
Now escapes,
running into future skyscapes,
closer than this moment
as it slips
into one more.
Age, a deep reflective pond,
translates all the places of possibility —
Twin jugglers set our stage.
Nature and nurture combine,
entwine with trails inside.
Take up the tale, my star lit dear,
of how we now have wandered here.
Now’s waiting; don’t be late.
Epic journeys cycle into each successive now.
We wander trails of potent destiny,
telling the tale,
bodysurfing the storm,
madly dancing in the rain,
cast off from restrictive form …
to taste sweet grapes
break crisply;
embark on a journey of ecstasy
to be all, every
thought to be,
enticement to unfurl forgotten wings
to join the flight, the call
into exultation.
A journey of a thousand destinies
written deep within your soul;
traveling daily through all the possibilities,
which are the parts that make you whole?
Forward from here.
    Hope emanates, flows into form —
hope for noble stories,
soul destiny of humanity.
    Another day dawns and lingers.
    We journey on.

Enjoy the Ride

Enjoy the Ride
(for Kevin)
Twin jugglers set our stage.
Nature and nurture combine,
entwine with trails inside,
thus structuring our fate.
Take up the tale, my star lit dear,
of how we now have wandered here.
Now’s waiting; don’t be late.
Epic journeys cycle into each successive now.
Wandering song, waft and wave.
Rise aloft, fall to softened tone.
Encode the call we each aspire to
become entranced with
through fear, romance, death,
enhancement to repair, to own
the tune we play.
Sound waves, calls with urgent eloquence,
soothes night fears with lullaby,
comradely cheer.
Warrior song —
carried through
long brave trails, travailed years —
harbor of our power.
Sorcery speaks, entangles.
Stars and hearts emerge.
Wooden ships voyage eternal sea —
journey of ages spiraling outward, free.
Easy found trades, winds recycle seeds.
Back to the gardens of pagan lore —
earth, air, sun, and transforming water.
We wander days of potent destiny,
deep mystic incantation spins the tale,
of a possible age in birth.
Love song ‘tween man
and Earth.
Phoenix Fire strength fills open hearts.
Incanted flame implores spirit world to succor, exalt
He who hath endured tribulation, but never succumbed,
perpetually cast stronger toward powerful
Elements always in flux,
adaptable, to align with intention.
Pure essence to ignite:
Saddened, enraged, radiant,
tempered to exquisite artistry
to flow with the forces
of nature
delicately balanced
between what could be
and what we will allow.
Let your mind drift and wander.
Take a leisurely stroll through
what feels good, right, beautiful…