Loss, grief and chaos advance;
the desperate fall adrift
as structures buckle
under mounting pressure.
Dispossession, ravaged land,
and children lost to the flood,
reckoned on the delicate scales
of your tender heart.
Breathe in the wounding,
then breathing out,
offer your begging bowl of gratitude
for healing of this aching world.
Very nice Don – perfect and timely radiant poetic release!
Your poem, Linda’s bowl….a great combination!
You’re right, Don — One breath at a time. That’s all we can do. Hard work, but healing.
The light and the dark- it is all the same isn’t it.
Thanks for speaking for my heart. That “dear boy or girl lost to the flood” … have barely disappeared, swallowed by muddy waters, and I can’t quite release the image yet to face the day.
How profound, Don. Yes,
.
all must be reckoned
on an inner scale never fooled
by the hard masks of pride
.
Tender love from my mending heart to yours.
Your beautiful poem speaks loudly as to world situations ahead, whether it is Orlando, Brexit, a new Prime Minister, or the confusing election here in America. looking deeply within, there are resources that come into play when we pause and not jump to hasty conclusions.
So beautiful…”the begging bowl of gratitude”…poignant! And one breath at a time……
As always your words and wisdom help soothe the broken planet. The last few months of your writing have spoken deeply to the myriad of issues we as a species face. Because of your insights we may all find renewed strength to find our own paths to a more enlightened existence. Thank you.
Thank you, Don. I’ve been plugging holes in the dam, but I’ve just pressed my 10th finger in the last one possible, my breath tense. I look along the dam wall and….there are more….My meditation this week is about releasing my fingers from such useless ardor, deep breathing….and relaxing. The river wants free, I can hear her…and I want for her freedom.
beautifully soothing –together one breath at a time
Thank you, Don.