While Sitting on the Porch

Posted on May 24, 2015 by Maggie C

While sitting on the porch
of the rustic cabin in the quiet pine forest,
I sense the faint beginnings
of the restoration of my soul.

I scan the wooded vistas,
seeing so much farther than
the usual confines of my restricted horizons,
seeing so much deeper into the reaches
of my self-forsaken heart.

Listening to the magpies
and the ospreys and jays, and
those pale green birds with the
beautiful songs that dance across the air,
I feel my inner voice begin to hum,
seeking out that melody that has for far too long
been scorned into silence.

I inhale deeply of the fresh forest air,
and I am finally able to exhale, long and slow,
releasing the toxic fear and tension
that I have been holding inside me
as if it were my last dying breath.

I can abide comfortably for once
among the trusted few that accompany me.
A light joke, a sweet hug…
fists and jaw and heart unclenching
like a leaf unfolding into new growth,
I open to the freedom that is offered
in the security of this sacred environment.
It is the quenching of a thirst long overdue.

Amidst the stillness of nature,
my own nature steps tentatively forward,
and I welcome my reawakening soul
as one would welcome the arrival of an old friend…

while sitting on the porch.

In Work

Posted on May 12, 2015 by Maggie C

In Work I am co-creator with the One Creator,
co-creator with all in the One Creation.

In Work I sow seeds for the Harvest.
A touch, a smile, a benevolent word…
all are seed for Creation.

Yet, what is the fruit of my work?

When I dance on the shore and add my voice
to the songs of the waves,
can I know today that my song will touch a soul
months, years, centuries from now?

Can I know the steps of my dance
will be remembered and retraced,
long after their mark has been washed clear of
the sandy beach?

If this is so, shall I not rewrite the song?
Make the tune more melodious, or the
words more noble, perhaps?
Add a swift spin or an elegant dip to the dance
in vainglorious tribute
to me…

But then creation Work will have ceased
and ego work commenced.

And if my singing is lost to the uproar of the sea,
if the imprint of my dance disappears
with the sweep of the next tide,
do I withhold the song, refrain from dancing?
For Whom am I Working?

If I cease the Work of sowing, I cease being a co-creator.
And then what am I?

In strained faith, I continue to sow.
The harvest of my work I leave
to the Harvester, Who knows when fruition is complete.

Mother’s Day

Posted on May 10, 2015 by Maggie C

No need to honor
my motherly love. Indeed,
the honor is mine.

Pink

Posted on April 28, 2015 by Maggie C

“Is he part Shar-Pei?” she asks. She hands my latte out the drive-through window. “All those wrinkles!”

Bella glares from the passenger seat, indignant at being mistaken for a male, let alone a Shar-Pei. Look at the pink collar, for Chrissake!

“No, she’s just a worrier, so her forehead wrinkles. Part boxer, part lab.” Part opportunist, waiting for me to set my drink in the cup holder between us.

A pink collar doesn’t necessarily indicate gender, I tell Bella as we drive away.

I know of a male dog named Pink. He’s black. He wears a pink collar. His owner, holding onto Pink’s pink leash, spoke of a prior pet dying of cancer. This is his tribute to the deceased pet. Pink doesn’t seem to care what color his collar and leash are. He’s comfortable in his masculinity. And he’s not a worrier like Bella.

I’m not going to worry either, I decide. I don’t want to get worry wrinkles on my forehead, lest someone mistakes me for a Shar-Pei and tries to collar me.

Bella is skeptical that that would ever happen. Her wrinkles unfold a bit as she stretches to lick the foam off the lid to my latte. You should worry, though, she tells me. After all, you think you’re conversing with a dog.

And next time? Ask for non-fat. My collar is getting a bit tight and I need to watch my figure.

Shar-Pei indeed!

If Only

Posted on April 24, 2015 by Maggie C

If I only had wings, 
I tell myself longingly,
I could explore so many new places,
savor so many new sights,
immerse myself in so many
new adventures.

Yes, I muse,
sighing as I sink further
into the soft cushions of the 
well-worn couch,
propping my perfectly functional feet
onto the matching well-worn ottoman.
If I only had wings...

Weekly Photo Challenge: Motion

Mother Earth

Posted on April 22, 2015 by Maggie C

She came into Being
whole and flawless,
yet we tried to
perfect Perfection
as if we somehow
knew better than God.

Sadly,
we were mistaken.

Rain Falls

Posted on April 14, 2015 by Maggie C

It’s two a.m. and the bars have evicted the last of the revelers.
Rain falls onto the deserted street and rolls into the gutter.
In a scant few hours, as passersby begin to stare,
he will pick himself up and move on.

Zen Garden

Posted on April 10, 2015 by Maggie C

Tall vertical stones
with their leaning rock consorts
float within a sea of
white sand and gravel
raked to perfection into
rippling waves in
a contrastingly
calm, even plane.

This little garden,
an oasis of zen energy,
unassuming and nonsanctimonious,
helps keep me afloat
when I find myself
tossed by waves of
undisciplined thought,

reminding me that I - 
like the garden -
am an amalgam,
not of sand and gravel and rock,
but of body, mind and spirit;
and that I, too,
am perfectly patterned
for my own even plane of
unassuming and nonsanctimonious
existence.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Afloat

Haiku Five ~ Sentinel

Posted on April 9, 2015 by Maggie C

trees stand sentinel
safekeeping the barracks of
soldiers long since gone

Focus on Blur

Posted on April 3, 2015 by Maggie C

It would appear that –
in this moment –
mindfulness is a prominent focus.

Stop and smell the roses…
live life in the now…

But sometimes
maybe it’s okay to
release the brakes, and
let life come at you
in a glorious full-tilt blur.

Mindfully, of course.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Blur

What Rhymes with Stanza?

Words at rest, words at play

Category Archives: humanity