My Poetry

Already Risen

Somewhere
behind the clouds
the full moon rises.
Somewhere
beyond the mountains
the full moon
has risen.

The sky is lavender.

I ask the songbird
shadowed in the twilight
she trills gently
as I pass by.

I ask the raven
gliding overhead
his voice is silent.
The wind whispers
though his wings.

There is no answer.

That night
the moon left bars of
shadows and light
across our
rumpled bed.

You cry out
in your sleep
my voice lulls you
to gentler dreams.

In your sleep
your hands grip
my wrists you
can not free me.

I lie quiescent
in that prison
Safe harbor
for that night.

Somewhere
behind the clouds
the full moon rises.
Somewhere
beyond the mountains
the full moon
has risen.

Davening

Plump, short Cantor Szwerling
was a tzaddik
an upright man
He showed us
(sophisticated adolescents)
how to daven
like the Hasids
He threw himself
to the floor
stretched out
then drew himself
up
to his knees
finally rising
to stand tall
For those moments
he embodied
the passionate
Love of God
and I
unable to give away my heart
was willing to let him
guide my soul
along the path
of righteousness.

Many years later
I sat in satsang
chanting mantras
while Nandi’s fingers
sure and swift
flew across
his drums
enticing us
to the dance
Arms raised
high and wide
turning slowly
til we spun
in the ecstasy
And I
uninterested in giving away
my heart
was willing to follow
the dance
along the path
of joy.

Slender, short Rinpoche
sat upon his throne
of pillows
legs crossed
hands open
upon his knees
he showed us
(eager seekers of englightenment)
how to bow
to the Buddha within
He threw himself
to the floor
stretched out
then drew himself
up
to his knees
finally rising
to stand
tall
For those moments
he embodied
humble devotion
and I
unwilling to give away
my heart
was able to let him
guide my mind
along the path
of awareness.

Whore

“You’re such a whore,”
she said.
He smiled.
He thought
she was speaking
to the woman
beneath him.

Hidden

we all hide
behind something
our armor diverse
and colorful
adding to
the theater of
our deception

we hide behind our stuff
a fortress of items
on sale at kmart
or shipped
carefully packaged
from exotic places
overseas
like paris … texas

we hide behind our knowledge
fact piled high
upon fact
teetering atop
papers and books
and scholarly journals
talking as fast
as we can

we hide behind
our busy-ness
we run
from meeting
to meeting
from soccer match
to fundraiser
afraid to

stop.

we hide
our soft and ever-
bleeding hearts
our armor
clanking and rattling
like jacob marley
bound in the chains
of our
fear

we are each
beating out the
various rhythms of
our lives
so delicate
so strong.

Seeing  You

Seeing you, I tremble
A young leaf in the spring breeze

My breath
Catches
My heart
Leaps

Sleepless, I lie alone
I cannot seem to forget you

Loving you, I open
A wild rose in the warm sun

My lips
Smile
My spirit
Sings

Restless, I walk the night
I cannot seem to forget you

Running Free

A late-October evening
My heart jumps free
With the white dog
In the tall grass

They run
In the long arc of a hunt
Flushing the startled prey
Into star-lit darkness

We walk
Warm breath in the cool night
Mingling voice and laughter
Hands and hearts

We part
Cool words in the hot sun
Untangling hurt and anger
Hands and hearts

A late-October evening
My heart still runs
With the white dog
In the tall grass

Joy

The air dissolves
And flairs
Outward to the stars
I am here
Solid on the earth
And my breath
Leaves my heart
Behind

I fly
On wings of delight
I am carried
On currents of laughter

Rhythm .. Blend
Harmony … Beat
Voice … Love
Heart … Drum
Joy

Where do you stand?
Why do you stay?
Where are you going?
When will you come?

To me
All glistens
Showered with light
The song of the earth
Is joined by the song
Of each
Heart

The beat is strong
The rhythm eternal
It flows
Generation …. to generation
Grandmothers touch the earth
Grandfathers reach the stars

We are enfolded
By the unknown
It is …
It is.

My eyes shine
In the cold air
My eyes shine
In the cold air
My eyes shine

I am lifted
As I watch the light
Of the distant comet
I fall in your arms
Our embrace enternal
Our love is free
In just
This moment

Who are you?
Where do you stand?
Who are you?
Where are you going?
Who are you?

I reach out
My hands touch
Dry autumn grass
I caress
The bark of trees
Soft touch of fur
Against my leg

The white dog
Looks to her master
And turns around
To face the moon
She sighs
And falls to her knees
She sighs
And falls to the earth
She sighs
And softly .. softly
Falls

Who am I?
Where do I stand?
Who am I?
Where am I going?
Why?
Why am I here?

My laughter rises
Toward the moon
Silver in the cold night
Silver in the cold air
Silver as she slivers
Across the sky
Leaving a trace
Of Joy.

He led me to a place where only Light existed.
Only in us is God so lost that He asks
questions.

The soul outside all walls
never troubles Him, never wonders things like,
“Where are You,
Beloved?”

Every Prophet’s name is a key,
as is every heart full of
forgiveness
and love.

~ St. Teresa of Avila ~

Not only every prophet’s name,
But every Being’s name,
The cooling breath of the wind,
The harsh touch of midsummer sun,
The call of the nightbird
and the scent of the desert flower,
The smile of a stranger,
The touch of the lover -
Each of them are the doorways
Into that place of Light.

We dwell in that Light.
It fills us and overflows -
That Light is never lost,
It lies quietly behind
Every good and nourishing thing.

In our time here on this rich, deep earth,
Filled with contrast and harmony,
We visit that Light and
We bring it back into the world
of men, and women, and dogs,
and trash in the alleys,
and sirens in the night,
and bars filled with laughter and anger,
and long solitary walks through the mountains,
and gentle conversations with sweet friends -

Let that Light shine out
that others may find their own way Home.

Noah’s Wife

“Pay attention to what they tell you to forget” ~ Muriel Rukyser

Well … I can’t believe he pulled it off -
and here I am,
looking out onto nothing but windswept rain
and listening to the waters rising
along the sides of this outlandish boat.

In the first days,
I refused to leave my small space,
I couldn’t bear the calls and cries
of the animals – locked away -
I joined them
locked myself away.
My own calls and cries went unheard
by any but the small raven
who would not leave me.
The gentle creature nested
under my hair,
the day before we boarded.
She was not part of a pair,
and my husband did not notice her
or her quiet heartbeat.
She comforts me with her
soft mutters as she
voices my unspoken fears.

I help now with the daily care
of the creatures, moving about
below the decks, doing
what I can.
I see them, they watch me,
their eyes are filled with questions
the cannot frame
and my only answer is to meet
their eyes with questions
of my own.
They have become quiet now,
perhaps the rocking of this boat
comforts them as
it does my grandchildren rocking
in the arms of their mothers.

Ah, these strong, young women
who walked aboard this absurdity
following their husbands,
my sons,
without a backward glance …
all but the eldest -
she turned and spat before
walking through the doorway,
her judgment sank into the sand
beside the boat, and then the judgment
of my husband’s god joined it.
His verdict and sentence lifted us
to drift away from our people,
away from our past.

Now, we all await the outcome of this journey.
His god is washing the arth clean,
my husband explains to me.
I cannot agree with him.
The death we all know is below us
does not feel clean to me.
We are no better than the ones who died,
calling out to us to take them in,
begging us to grant them safety and shelter.

I must wonder about this god
who speaks of righteousness
yet acts with such cruelty.
Our children and their children,
they will forget that which has come before us -
our good lands and our dear friends.
In generations to come they will have forgotten
my name, but I wonder
what this god has hidden under the waters
that they will seek.

When Freedom Arrived

1. Leaving

When did the leaving begin
what was the shift
the moment
when
this life was truly over
and the next had not yet
shown its face?

I can remember
moments here and there
a growing sense of
freedom
the invisible wings
at my back
spreading, stretching
preparing to fly.

There was a time of
not knowing
the how – the where – the when
til separately, each
arrived
a quiet knock at the
door of my heart
leading me onward.

2. The Bardo

Slender, winding country roads
canopied with changing leaves
rolling hills
what’s around the next bend
mystery follows me and I
follow her
leap-frogging into the unknown.

The lands stretch, elongate,
spread into the distance
my eyes follow and determine
the new path of my
heart
then one day in
South Dakota
it shatters entirely.

There is no form to hold me
emptiness is fullness
I stop the car
the endless grasses are calling
Light
is a silent explosion
the shattered pieces snow down
awaiting a new form.

3. Arriving

Climbing the Divide
anticipation laced with fear
rock formations like sculptures
escort me upward
holy
is that final moment
before the knowing
the height of mystery.

Rolling down the mountain’s side
gathering speed within
shifting gears to slow the headlong ruch
into the waiting arms of
love
this unknown city
is a blessing
gathers me into its heart.

The mystery never ends
the shape is always fluid
shattering and reforming
turning light and love into
passion
leaving and arriving a
daily journey of
courage and compassion.

(c) 2007-2008 Emma MacKenzie