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WE WANT, AGAIN
We want to cry out,but we have no words. We want to screambut all we give is silence. We want to curse the invaderbut cannot be heardover the tanks, bombsand rockets. We want to mournbut there are so manyinnocents, wheredo we begin? We want to act,but we are incapableand can offeronly silent prayer.
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EXTINCT
You want us to believeyou are small, kind creaturessucking hungrily on the teatof democracy. We see you for whoyou really are, parasiteswho would suck the teatdry until democracywithered and died. Some believe you,accept you blindlybut what will they doif you succeed, for likeany invasive specieswhen the host is gonethere is only mourning.
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AND PEACE?
Santayana said, “Only the deadhave seen the end of the war.”We have grown adept at wars,no longer global in scope, butubiquitous in frequency. Mine was fought in the ricepaddies of Vietnam, and on thecampus where we struggledvaliantly and vainly to protest,and when that failed, in the heatof Texas, marching about, goingthankfully nowhere, shippedto Niagara Falls…
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TOZAN’S DISCLOSING MIND
Many would sayI think therefore I amand it is only deaththat takes away all thoughtand so to walk deeplyalong the Path, allthat is requiredis to truly live the Wayby allowingthe mind to die. A reflection on case 62 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo Koans (True Dharma Eye)
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KYIV
From the moment it began, we knew, it wasobvious that peace and freedom were under assault,Russia had thrown societal norms to the wind. Under gunmetal gray skies they attacked by air,killing women, children, destroying hospitals, homesraining hell on the innocents with nowhere to turn.All we could do was watch, pray and offer paltry aidin the…
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THE SAINT OF UNCOUNTED NAMES
A desert again,always a desertand she the saintof uncounted names,her crying eases, nosmile appears for thisMadonna of the coyotes,her orange-orbed eyesshuttered against theslowly retreating sun.Once her tears wateredthe desert sands, mixedwith the blood of a Christnow long forgotten, trans-substantiated into a spiritwe formed in our image,no longer we in his.The Blessed Motherwatches, holding hope,holding space,…
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SOPHIE
She maintained an aura of what sheimagined was elegance, a carefullyconstructed persona carried outin the most careful details. Her furniture had slipcovers, lestsomeone spill and mar the fabric,a tea cart always at the readyalthough I never saw her serve tea. She spoke with carefully chosenwords, certainly not the vernacularof the city, perhaps of Londonwhere she…
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STORY
You are still there. You have a patience that I will not know in this lifetime. I know I can always find you, even though you never reach out to me except in my dreams. There I tell you my life story and you listen intently. You have no need to ask questions, knowing I…
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UNTIL
I was the adoptee,was the whole for years, until. It is always the untilthat is your undoing, wasmine when sheremarried, then two births. I was one third then, neveragain truly whole and whenshe died I discoveredin her will I was onlyone twentieth, andthen never even that. I want to forget her,forget them, denythem, but all…
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UNKNOWING
Twenty years ago todayand there was no band playing,at least not for me, for I knewnothing of you yet, and youknew nothing of me either. I have met you sincein a moment of silence,looking at a yearbook pictureknowing what was not, whatnever was or could be. I recite the Kaddisheven though my Judaismhas been laid…
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an old writer and his words 