I’m wandering under the wayless stars,
over the naked breast of life, which resembles
the Great Sandhills of Saskatchewan. At a summit,
I see a breathing tree pointing at the sky.
I cover my face and drop to my knees.
The older I grow,
the more disarming my dreams.
The more wizened, the more fecund
my imagination.
There’s something happening to me–
a kind of interior feminization,
in active dialogue with my exterior.
Well, I’ve never been in demand as a he-man.
I would be held in derision by a Joe Rogan,
exampled, as sociocultural degradation, by a Jordan Peterson.
Although, I’ve seen the man weep,
and thought,
he may not be far off,
the turn toward humility and inclusive compassion.
Though I could be wrong.
Perhaps I’m hormonal.
Deb reminds me,
“Andropause is a thing. It’s been going at you for a while.”
Well then, bring it on!
For increasingly, a searching simplicity is stripping me;
a germinating serenity is bewitching me:
I dream the rise of silence in this sleepless city;
I imagine the encampments, gatherings of broken light,
crystalline and shimmering;
I envision nations searching their souls,
and celebrating, together,
the destruction of the very last drone;
I picture a peace not based on force,
but enlivening, artful, numinous.
So I am not a rational man.
Just a man who walks like an exposed soul,
believing the world, despite the ocean of human suffering,
is beautiful and has meaning beyond the meaning we give it,
or can possibly imagine it.
In the end, I hope they’ll say, he was undone,
by the intimate perplexity of a tree,
pointing beyond the sky.
Simply beautiful
Thank you, my friend.
Good morning
There is no way no to read your words without an awareness of a gentle shift in my breath.
Thank you.
Thank you so much, Laurie.
“Just a man who walks like an exposed soul.” Wouldn’t the world be like your imagining if we all walked in the exposed goodness of our souls? I think I would like to try.
And your last stanza touches me deeply. Thank you, Stephen.
Thank you, Ann. I believe you’re right. Thanks again!
over the naked breast of life, which resembles the Great Sandhills of Saskatchewan
I picture a peace not based on force, but enlivening, artful, numinous.
undone, by the intimate perplexity of a tree…
Thank you, Stephen. Once again you have rearranged the stars in my chest.
Laurie, I so appreciate your response. It means a lot.
Beautiful. Thank you
Thank you, Barbara. That makes me happy.
“I picture a peace not based on force. . .” a dangerous, political position that has cost lives. The Prince of Peace,
to wit.
Thank you for that, Ike!
Just so lovely. I agree about drones used for any purpose —except to bring us beautiful images of places unreachable any other way— like the dreams that birth such writing.
Thank you, kind, Joyce.
Got me again Stephen, I humbly identify with so much of what you’ve expressed here. Thank you for so eloquently sharing your brave and vulnerable heart and soul. A balm.
Thank you so much, Kirk. I appreciate you.
In the day of the Lord “your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.”
Beautiful writing again, Steve!
In the day of the Lord “your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.”
Beautiful writing again, Steve!
Thank you, dear brother!
to the man who walked among us
leaving a trail
of words
like glistening crumbs of
loving kindness
so that we
might find our humble selves
familiar
with grace
thank you, once again Stephen -^-
Thank you, Tamara, for this blessing!
“ a searching simplicity is stripping me”
“believing in the world, despite the ocean of suffering “
So grateful to read a naming and validation of my current soul place. Your poetry is so often manna in the wilderness.
With shy thanks to you for sending out these little birds.
And thank you, Catherine, for such a kind and encourageing response.