Belated Thanksgiving poem, 11/29/22
Half a world away, I walk a narrow, stone path. In the rice fields, the Balinese people
A path with heart Is full of love Which makes us right Brings in the light And chases the dark.
Many thoughts in the mind, Some productive, some not. They glow like fires, Created by needs and
Photos are all I have At times, Of smiling familiar faces, My family spread out. I would travel often
Brown hawk with spotted tail, soaring on the wind, balancing like a sail. Your piercing cry
What is truth? It’s a changing sky, One day clear, The next, cloudy, Holding the blue and grey,
Looking at my journal’s Blank page While geese fly by and honk A greeting. The red cardinals
Sitting on the lake shore, Which made my heart soar, The water rippled at times, Swirled into beautiful lines, Clouds reflected in it’s mirror,
Life is but a dream, our fantasies, spill, like liquid tears that pool and vaporize into the air.
In the bright moments My mind is a flame, Melting obstacles, Gaining gifts of wisdom. In the dark moments
Inhale, the arms float up, Exhale, the arms float down, Namaste, at the heart. Inhale, the body bends, Hands at top of mat,
In the dead Of Winter, I long for Spring. In the rains Of Spring,
Yellow finches Line the bird feeder Against Spring’ s canopy Of green and purple tapestry. Back and forth they go
It is what it is Despite my wishes for it, Otherwise. You are who you are Despite my expectations,
My spirit communes with the four directions: To the north are in-laws, our aging mother, her last