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.

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.

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