Show Me A Sign
It is Springtime and under the blanket of fog
the branches of trees not yet burdened by leaves
press up into the sky to form a filigree
that pleases the eye.
The yellow daffodils and forsythia have blossomed overnight.
and their beauty pulls at my heart strings
and my tears fall like rain.
Soon it will be the day of your birth,
but we never waited to celebrate
Show me a sign, a sign of wonder
it is Easter and Passover
it is the season of miracles.
Show me a sign
like the great rivers parting,
and mana from heaven
and know that my heart and soul
are both lost and hungry.
These early signs of spring
seem like a mirage,
in the desert I still wander
Show me a sign that one day
that someday,
I will find
a reason for being
a reason for being without you.
Show me a sign
a sign that it will be in this lifetime
or must I wait to join you,
in the promised land.
Gifts I Have Been Given
Each time I have been challenged by lifes inevitabilities
I have somehow managed, through the grace of smiling angels
To receive more than was taken,
And then doubling the gifts I have been given
by passing on the secrets of these precious lesson learned
Through my scribblings on a page.
I am not sure if I was taught this or if I dumbly stumbled upon it
But as sure as morning follows night
I have been blessed with half filled cups that never empty.
I know that you will find this strange
coming from the lips of someone orphaned
at an early age and now widowed decades too soon
But I am the son of a father who was a man for all seasons
And whose values I still cherish
He mastered the arts, and sciences of his times
And loved to laugh at life absurdities
He passed on to me a legacy of unquenchable curiosity.
My grandmother, mother and sister shared lessons in humanity
and to always care for others above oneself
I learned that one must work at Tikun Olam, repairing the world.
I have spent the last half century doing just that in my small way.
And from my bride, the gifts of a lifetime,
the dark clouds I carried in my youth were blown away
by her love of life, her love of me, and her joyous laughter at the antics of our fellow primates.
Together we were able to fashion two sons who gave us new opportunities
to love, to learn, and to grow and they have given us
little versions of themselves
even more perfect than those generations who came before them.
So although I stand alone and without their present company,
I feel for those who have never shared their wisdom, their love, and adoration
And even though those times were short, I lengthen them
by making new memories of the times we spent together
and by passing on to you the stories of their presence and the wondrous gifts
Gifts they gave to me and that I now bequeath to you.
Chambers
When you’re feeling lost and lonely
And you don’t know where to turn
And your shoulders start to shudder,
And your eyes begin to burn.
When you need a place of comfort
a shelter from the storm
Close your eyes and think of me
Our love will keep you warm.
And know that I will come for you
And sweep you in my arms
I will hold you deep inside of me
Far from danger far from harm
I will keep you safely
in the chambers of my heart
you are safe inside the chambers
Inside the chambers of my heart
Close your eyes, you are safe here.
Close your eyes I embrace you
Close your eyes and listen to the rhythm
Of the beating of my heart
Each time I’m feeling lonely,
Feeling fearful and so troubled
I close my eyes and feel the rumble.
Of the beating of my heart
My hands rise in prayer.
And I know that you are there.
Being cradled by the rhythm of the chambers
Cradled by the chambers of my heart
If you are feeling lost and lonely
And you don’t know where to turn
Your shoulders start to shudder
And your eyes begin to burn
If you need a place of comfort
A shelter from the storm
Close your eyes and think of me
Our love will keep you warm.
And know that I will come for you
And sweep you in my arms
I will hold you deep inside of me
Far from danger far from harm
I will keep you safely
in the chambers of my heart
you are safe inside the chambers
Inside the chambers of my heart
Nirvana Straight Ahead
I wish that I had a well-marked path to follow.
One with signs that said, “nirvana straight ahead.”
Instead, I hear whispers to “follow me” or shouts of warning “don’t go there.”
Of course, the voice sounds familiar, as familiar as my own
I am tired and feel faint when I test the limits of my strength and endurance.
I am frightened when I wake up from a wrestling match with my sheets.
I am eating too much and not enough of the things that elders should snack on.
I am confused about what I want out of life.
I have come to realize that life expects less out of me in my 70’s.
If only I were in an ashram sitting under Buddha’s tree,
if only I were sipping wine in the vineyard of a villa in the south of France,
if only I were on a road trip crisscrossing the country from one roadside attraction to another
If only I were on a yacht off the Florida keys, watching the dolphins leap into the air
or paddling in a kayak, making my way along the rivers from town to town
If only I met someone who understood me and I them
Understood me as you did as well as you knew the back of your own hand.
If i had a friend, If I had a community,
I am alone a lot, I am not bad company, It is quiet here and somehow I have more time to myself than I can ever remember. I am never bored. I find things to occupy my time.
My hobbies have become my solace, I write, I ride, I photograph.
I wish that I had a well-marked path to follow.
One with signs that said “nirvana straight ahead.”
Instead, I hear whispers to “follow me” or shouts of warning “don’t go there.”
Of course the voice sounds familiar, as familiar as my own
She Loved the Fog
She loved the fog, and I loved her
Born on Thistle Street in the Gorbals of Glasgow
Footsteps from the river Clyde
She took no shelter from the storms,
The booms of thunder gave her comfort.
She’d toss open windows to hear them clearly
Lightning lit her beauty against the shadows of the night.
In the fog of early morning, she gazed into the dimness
I peer into the mists this morning
And hope to catch a glimpse of her as she slips away.
Born Anew
I am a newborn at a mother’s breast
I am a novice kneeling at the good lord’s feet
I am a student cross legged on a woven mat
My memories are washed away by my tears
My life before now ashes from the burning bush
My past a blur as I center and assume my stance
I bath in the love of a mother’s gaze
I carry down the tablets, words etched in my soul
I mimic the motions of the elders in class
My first steps transform my crawl to a walk
My awe at the founder of the universe expands
My hands rise from a forward fold
to my heart in a silent prayer.
and I am born anew.
Students and Teachers
When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready the teacher will disappear.
I am blessed and I am grateful. I have learned so much. My most impactful teacher was and still is my bride. For decades we studied and learned the cycle of life together; the sowing and reaping, the blossoms of spring and the harvests of autumn. After our fair share of tragedy, we built a family and bought a little house too small for the four of us but more than adequate for me and my memories today.
Together we learned to be friends, lovers, parents and somewhere along the way adults but she never lost the child in her. Her moods were my muse and I sought with my writing to chart them like the constellations in the night sky. She was so graceful and my heart is still inextricably connected to the image of her smile; lighting up her face, lighting up the room, lighting up my soul.
Almost a year after her passing, I am still recounting the lessons she taught me. She tried to prepare me for this time, a time when her kisses would be memories and the imprint of her body pressed to mine would be so faint as to make me wonder if it ever happened.
So, hard fought lessons learned, I rise early and chant a mantra to her spirit, trace the lines of her form with my poems, capture sights in photographs that I know would make her ooh and aah. I drive to the gym to sweat, grunt and groan. She used to make me run back and forth in the glassed encased rooms where a paddle and a little black ball were the instruments of my destruction.
I keep busy at night, seeing movies, making the rounds, outings with friends, wandering the holiday fairs in Manhattan alone, but busy. I have traveled to Newport and San Francisco, staying at the finest hotels, knowing she would have loved the feel of the robe and slippers.
When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready the teacher will disappear.
I am blessed and I am grateful. I have learned so much but still feel like I am a novice as I learn to navigate this world alone. I know that this is the lesson, the capstone of all lessons that she was trying to teach me. I close my eyes and see her, half smile on her lips shaking her head and letting me know in her way that the one lesson not yet mastered is that life is too important to be taken seriously and I vow to add some silliness, some ridiculousness and laughter to my daily routine.
I know I still have so much to learn.
Loving You
Loving you was effortless
Dodging your moods took some skill
Turning a smile into a thunderous laugh
Was a walk in the park
Soothing your fears
Took a run up a hill!
Infinite Spirit
Those of us who are of a certain age, our children grown, with children of their own, wake to find another dear friend gone, and it doesn’t take an Einstein or Thoreau to realize that the loss you suffered when she cast away her human form, is universal to all who mourn and we must rise above our own distress and comfort those whose wounds are fresh.
To all the loved ones of those no longer at our side, please hold each other in a fierce embrace and wail and cry and raise your fist against the sky and then with griefs sweet release think deep and hard about the gifts our loved ones gave to us and nurture their wondrous legacy, and add its riches to the treasure chests where we keep the mirror of whom we hoped we’d grow to be and like Nobel remake our destiny for those who will remember thee.
And if we pass this tradition on, the wisdom and the joy of those no longer here will be present in those that we hold dear and on and on their spirit will be carried through the march of time into infinity.