Subversive Meandering

Listen without ears to the voice

that calls you, Come this way.

The intangible things that breathe 

have no names but are life.

Something in the mist and fog

of our mystical musings awaits us. 

One step more into 

the cosmic wobble, lovers,

always one step more.

Heart, mind, compassion, empathy.

Our souls. Even those that are 

imaginary and fictional, we name. 

Words become us, however reckless.

Nothing that lives can be safe.

Stop listening to the music

and become the music— 

bang the drums, play the trumpets,

sing the prayer, be what you are.

Should we trust anyone’s 

proclamation of faith 

who doesn’t argue with God?

From: Getting There

Unpub. MS p. 15

Prayer Of Saint Francis Of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not

so much seek to be consoled

as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen

A Way Of Praise

In praise of sunlight and rain,

constellations and the passage of time,

fierce love, and eyes that gaze deep into another’s;

the migrating shadows of mesquites and saguaros,

orange poppies that coat the desert floor;

a baby’s laughter and crying,

the hugs and kisses of lovers,

the healing breath of Jesus,

and faith that knows the vastness 

of Mystery and things unseen, 

and prayers that rise 

in whatever way 

they must.

From: Shorts: Short Poems On How We Ramble

Unpub. MS p. 40