The door creaks, the window opens
to light and air and what waits.
Geese bark, otter slide into the sea
and I sit beside the water, aging like stone
into rough textured patience.

Quick as hummingbird,
bothersome as goose
I listen now and hear more deeply
the unsaid word, the long lost feeling,
the call of deep rooted trees
in sunlight and darkness.

I range like a swift, gather as a bee
tasting camas in its purple glow.
Absorbed in silence, I hook on
to the great chain of being
and quietly pass through the mystery.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10 Responses

  1. Yep. Montana mountain flower offers its pollen to bee and Monarch in silent air, then swiftly yet gently a cloud blocks the sun, and wind arises from the west, and flower bends willingly…..all this in lively silence. Wonderful theme.

  2. “… hook on / to the great chain of being…”
    I love that!

    Maybe we can only be pulled into the great mystery this way. Maybe trying to reach into it on our own power will never work.
    I can feel this is true, somehow.
    Thanks.

  3. In feeling moved to capture a phrase from this, I realized that at least a half a dozen feel truly “worthy”. So many that it brought me to a stop. Lloyd highlights one…so I’ll accept the simplification and distillation and reference another one that I love:

    “hear more deeply
    the unsaid word, the long lost feeling”

  4. Don – through the words of this exquisite poem, passing through that great mysterious doorway, I hear the Voice of Being sound in silence – awesome!

  5. Peace, Be Still… As I sit beside still waters, the creaking, bytimes, of the Door of my Soul is absorbed in ever-silent, yet ever-present Being that passes through the Mystery, revealed to me in its time. “Peace, Be Still”.

  6. With aging comes the increasing experience of Being as opposed to Doing. Thank you, Don, for expressing this so beautifully.

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