Thursday, December 15, 2011

poems on loving anyway

by W.S Merwin

with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions.

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
looking up from tables we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

let it go – the
by e.e. cummings

let it go – the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise – let it go it
was sworn to

let them go – the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers – you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go – the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things – let all go
so comes love

The Invisible Cloak
by John O'Donohue

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

The Arc That Bends Towards Mercy
loves justice too
don't think that will ever change
in case you want off the hook
in the case of a butterfly
or a sparrow with a broken wing
or person
or child
in any kind of body
or what if
you've been attacked
or you're the slinger
or maybe everybody
needs forgiving...

when you consider your options
maybe right away
even after a long time
you get your choice
you get to choose
when and how to heal
when to go back
and ahead
to find

what you don't have to take
or be
is not only
the wounding
but the wounding back

what you feel then
is that you are riding
once more
on the golden elephant
over the arc of tears
into the arms of home
and even before getting to heaven...
even you might want to stop again
and get the elephant to let you off
for another sunrise when
once more orange and pink swirls
with caws and fish and birds
over the sea reaching as if to Asia
or to America
or both
are swaddled in visions
and truehopes once more
and compassion and beauty is
once more
as real as the morning mist
over the waters
yet still connecting
communities of us all
as never before
in fact as a nation of one
in the here
in the becoming
and our real lives
become authentic
a lived reality stage
once more.

Once again
there is still
room for love...

(By connie l. nash on the morning after the US may have killed the Bill of Rights 220 years after it was written - 16 December, 2011)

* scene found at Yes! Magazine for Fall 2011 at site for Thanks by W. S. Merwin

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